Can't Bill The Insurance For That!
by JillianPeters
Summary: While tending to a hospitalized Hal, Lester encounters a gorgeous but snooty ER nurse that he can't seem to get cozy with...at first. A married Steph and Ranger start their family. Babe story, Lester/OFC. Rating for language and eventual smut.
1. Chapter 1

**Just a little side story starring our very own resident sex god Lester Santos...Enjoy the smutty goodness! **

**Disclaimer: I do not own any of Janet Evanovich's characters, especially the Merry Men. I'll **_**think**_** about returning Lester to her after I'm done with him, though…**

**Rating for eventual sexually explicit situations and language.**

"Flesh wound," Bobby announced. "Needs it dug out and stitched." He was kneeling on his knee in front of Hal, examining the entry wound of a nine-millimeter bullet. Hal looked pale, but otherwise okay. He was shaken up. Several feet in front of us stood two Trenton P.D. uniforms and Ranger, hovering over Lewis Kerrigan. Kerrigan was an FTA of heroic proportions, and was known to fire off shots at someone just for the hell of it. Ranger had Kerrigan trussed up like a Christmas goose in handcuffs and ankle chains.

"Get him to St. Francis," Ranger barked. "Santos, take him in your truck."

"Yes, sir," I replied. I was off-duty that night, but had raced to the scene of the shooting with Tank and Bobby when I heard that Hal had gotten shot. Bobby and I helped Hal up.

"Shit, Hal," I panted. "Help us out here, man!" Hal leaned on my side, nursing the shallow bullet wound that had taken a small chunk out of his thigh. We shuffled Hal over to my new black Escalade and I aimed the keyless entry remote to unlock the doors.

"I'm trying," he gasped. "I take it you've never been shot?"

"Too many times to count," I replied. "Bobby, get him into the front seat."

"You want a towel or something to put over the seat?" Bobby asked me.

"There's a clean gym towel in the backseat," I replied. Bobby located the towel and spread it over the passenger's seat to keep dirt and blood from getting onto my leather. Hal hoisted himself into my SUV and moaned when he unbent his knee.

"We'll get you to the ER in a minute, buddy," Bobby reassured Hal. "Just don't move a whole lot." Hal nodded. Bobby shut Hal into the passenger's seat and jumped into the back. "Santos, be careful of the bumps."

I put the Escalade in gear and slowly motored out of the parking lot, watching Ranger throw Kerrigan into the back of his Cayenne in my rearview mirror.

* * *

At St. Francis, Hal was quickly taken to a room by several nurses who whisked him down the hall in a wheelchair. Bobby and I were stuck filling out forms in the lobby. The young receptionist unabashedly stared at Bobby in his RangeMan uniform, looking terrified at the sight of all his weapons and muscles.

"Hal…Hal what?" I asked Bobby. "I know it's Dominguez, but how do you spell that?" I began panicking as I tried to fill out the stupid admitting paperwork, nearly succeeding in screwing up the first damn question.

"If you don't know that, Santos, I'm not sure what the hell you're doing working at RangeMan." Bobby snatched the clipboard and pen from me and plopped down onto a plastic waiting room chair. "Leave the forms to me, I'm the medic here."

"You're right. I'm going to go look for a vending machine." I left Bobby with the forms and found a door that read _Triage_ across it. What the hell was _Triage_? I gingerly pushed it open and peeked inside. Several empty cubicles, curtained off by ugly-patterned drapes hanging from the ceiling, were behind the door. Each cubicle held a stretcher and some medical equipment. To the right was the same hallway that they took Hal down. To my left, I heard voices coming from cubicle number four.

"Mr. Dominguez, how old are you?" a young female nurse's voice was demanding. Hal was back there! I quietly shut the Triage door behind me and tiptoed over to cubicle number four to listen in. I stood just out of view behind the drawn curtain and suddenly, the nurse who had been asking Hal all the questions gasped.

"Get the ammonia," someone yelled. "He's going down."

"Mr. Dominguez…Hal!" Another nurse ran into the cubicle from around the corner and rushed into Hal's cubicle.

"Get him on the stretcher," the second nurse said. My stomach flip-flopped and I began to worry about Hal. I still couldn't see anything, and if the nurses saw me they probably would have kicked me out for being nosy.

"He's coming around," the first nurse said. "Mr. Dominguez, how many fingers am I holding up?"

I heard Hal's voice answer groggily. "Two."

"Good," the nurse replied. "On a scale of one to ten, how much pain are you in?"

"An eight."

"Do you know who shot you?"

"Lewis K-Kerrigan," Hal stammered. "Damn, can I get some m-morphine?"

"In a little bit." The young-sounding nurse suddenly whipped back the cubicle's curtain and saw me. Shit. Busted.

"Um, sorry," I stammered. Her blue-green eyes widened and she gasped.

"Oh," she said lightly. "I didn't expect someone to be standing there."

"I can wait in the hall, if…"

"No! I mean, no, you don't have to. Are you with Mr. Dominguez?" she asked me.

"Yeah. Not _with_, you know. Friends, co-workers. Not…partners." I couldn't believe I just said all that. It was as if someone else was running my speech for me.

"Good to know," the nurse replied, giving me a strange smile before disappearing down the hallway. I smacked my forehead with the heel of my hand and dashed into Hal's cubicle. He was alone, lying in a semi-Fowler's position on the stretcher. He had a cool compress on his forehead and part of his pants leg was cut away where his wound was.

"Dude, you okay?" I asked him. "Did you pass out?"

"I guess," Hal mumbled. "Where's Brown?"

"Filling out your forms in the lobby."

"And Ranger?"

"Taking Kerrigan to T.P.D. headquarters to get booked in." Just then, my iPhone rang. I looked at the readout. Ranger.

"Yo," I said to him.

"Santos," he replied. "Give me a report on Dominguez."

"They have him in the prep-area right now, just to check him out. I'm assuming they're gonna move him to the treatment area later to get sewn up."

"Good. Is it busy there tonight?"

"Not really, the waiting room wasn't that full."

"Good," Ranger said again. "I'll be in touch." He disconnected. I stuck my phone back in my pocket and sat on a small rolling stool next to Hal's bed.

"Dude, who was that fucking _hot _nurse that was in here with you? In the pink outfit?" I whispered to Hal. "I don't come to the ER often, but I'm SURE I've never seen her here before."

"I dunno, but I think she pressed her tit against my arm by accident before I passed out."

Christ. "What did it feel like, man?"

"I don't remember." Hal grimaced. I could tell his leg was hurting.

"She is seriously gorgeous," I told him. "You sure you can't remember anything? Was it soft? Squishy? Real or fake?"

"Fuck, Lester! I've got a bullet in my leg!" Hal whined.

"Okay, okay." I sighed.

"Fucking horn-dog," I heard Hal grumble.

* * *

The young nurse who had witnessed my word diarrhea earlier came back into Hal's cubicle, carrying a box of sterile gauze and a bottle of sterile saline solution. She smiled at me.

"So, how did your friend here get shot?" she asked me. She placed the gauze and the saline bottle on a bedside table and crossed her arms in front of her, her foot sticking out to the side.

"He was apprehending a fugitive."

Her eyes lit up. "Oh, yeah?"

"We work for a security company," I explained. _Damn, _she was _sexy._

"So where're _your_ fatigues and weapons, then?" she asked me, checking out my new black Nike Shoxx, baggy blue jeans, and tight white t-shirt. I had my favorite White Sox baseball cap on backwards with my trusty mirrored-lens Oakleys on stand-by, resting on the bill.

"I'm off-duty tonight." I grinned and she smiled back.

"Well, that explains it." She turned around to face Hal. "I'm just going to clean your wound a little bit and put some gauze over it, and then we'll wheel you into the treatment area, okay?"

Hal nodded weakly.

"Sorry I can't get you any pain meds yet, but Dr. Schiff will make sure that doesn't get overlooked." The young nurse put a reassuring hand on Hal's shoulder.

"Thanks," Hal grumbled. Nurse Beautiful selected a pair of disposable gloves from a box on the counter and slid them over her hands. She needed to get to the other side of the bed, but I was blocking her from doing so.

"Sorry," I said, stepping to the side as she brushed past me. She smelled _so good._ I caught a glimpse of her hospital ID badge. _Dayna Marrero, RN, BSN. _She glanced up at me as she passed, giving me a look at the longest eyelashes I'd ever seen on a woman. She had full pink lips that begged to be sucked on, sparkling blue-green eyes, and long dirty-blonde hair that hung down her back in thick waves. Her baby-pink nurse's uniform hugged her perfect, slender frame and her shoes were similar to mine, but with pink in them. She wore a black long-sleeved shirt under her pink top, the sleeves pushed back to her elbows. And, for the record, I was pretty sure her tits were real.

"So," Dayna said. She ripped the paper covering off of the box of sterile gauze and twisted open the cap of the saline solution. She poured some saline into the box of gauze to soak the gauze squares and recapped the bottle. "Ex-military?" She eyed the diamond studs in each of my earlobes.

"Special Forces," I supplied.

"How impressive." Dayna took a few squares of the soaked gauze out of the box and lightly dabbed them on Hal's gunshot wound. "My father was a S.E.A.L."

"Oooh, a military brat," I remarked, a teasing grin spread across my face.

"Something like that." Dayna continued to dab Hal's wound, trying hard not to cause him pain, being as careful as possible. "I was born in Panama."

"You don't look Panamanian," I said to her. She looked up from Hal's leg.

"That's because I'm not." Dayna raised an eyebrow at me and gave a slight smile. "I'm sorry, I didn't catch your name."

"It's Lester," I replied. "The guys usually just call me Santos."

"Santos." I _loved _the way she pronounced it, letting it roll off her tongue. "Sounds Panamanian."

This girl had _jokes. _

"It's not," I said, somewhat defensively. "I'm originally from Chicago."

"Puerto Rican?" she asked.

"Of course, one-hundred percent."

She rolled her eyes, but she was smiling. "How did I guess?"

"Maybe it's my dark, exotic good looks. Or my sensual-sounding last name." I smirked.

"No. That's not it. I think it's the egotistical, in-love-with-yourself attitude." Dayna smirked back and snapped her gloves off. She threw away all of the supplies and whooshed out of the cubicle, leaving a sweet-smelling trail behind her.

_Ouch._

"Damn," Hal grumbled. "Nurse fine-as-fuck, one. Lester Santos, zero."

"Her name is Dayna."

"And I'm next to positive that's as far as you'll get with her."

* * *

**What do you all think? Should I continue? Lol Lester's not having much luck with her!**

**** Written for my fabulously-wonderful muse, my coworker and fellow Lester-luster! Love ya, Babe! **


	2. Chapter 2

Loud knocking erupted on my front door. No, wait. Someone was fucking _pounding _on the door to my apartment so hard that the walls were shaking. I was jolted awake by the noise and propped myself up on my elbow. My legs were tangled in the sheets, keeping me from jumping out of bed quickly. I squinted at the alarm clock next to me on the nightstand. Six-twenty a.m. on a Monday. I didn't have to be on assignment until nine-thirty. Shit.

"What the FUCK!" I yelled from my bedroom. The banging stopped. I was shirtless, wearing only boxers. I grabbed the Glock sitting next to my alarm clock and chambered a round. Whoever the hell was at my door was going to eat a bullet if they started pounding again. I stumbled out of bed and approached my foyer, throwing the locks and cracking the door open. I poked the barrel of the nine out the crack.

"Damn, Santos!" came Bobby's startled exclamation. "Put the fucking gun down, man!"

"_What the FUCK _are you _DOING, _Brown?" I demanded through clenched teeth. I tossed the Glock onto the couch behind me and opened my door wider. Bobby was looking at me like I was a fucking madman. He was dressed in gym clothes and had a large water bottle with him. It suddenly hit me where he was headed. I grimaced.

"You selling me out again, dawg?"

"Errrgh, _fuck_ me," I groaned. I banged my head against the door frame. "I forgot."

"Yeah, yeah. This is the second time this week, man." Bobby looked annoyed as he turned away from my door.

"Wait, I'ma put on some clothes right quick." I ran into my bedroom and began riffling through the drawers. I heard Bobby follow me inside and he shut the door behind him. I located a clean white tank top and saw a pair of baggy black basketball shorts slung over the hamper. I sniffed them. They smelled clean, so I threw those on, too. I hopped around, trying to put my socks on. I laced up my Shoxx, grabbed my iPod, and practically shoved Bobby back out the door and into the hall.

We made it to the gym by 6:40. It was already packed with RangeMan employees. Bobby and I groaned.

"Should have gotten here earlier," I pointed out. Bobby glared at me and opened his mouth to say something nasty, but thought better of it and stalked over to the free weights. I followed him and sat down on the bench press. I strapped on my weight-lifting gloves and did a little bit of stretching. Bobby was already doing reps, concentrating hard and listening to the hardcore underground gangster rap that got him motivated to pump iron.

I, on the other hand, surprisingly preferred the musical stylings of bands like Metallica and Van Halen while working out. Not what I usually listened to, but those guys put me in a kick-ass mood sometimes.

I lifted free weights for about an hour and headed over to the treadmills. There was an unoccupied treadmill next to where a very pregnant Bombshell slowly walked, huffing and puffing and looking ready to pop. I approached the empty treadmill and gave her one of my trademark knee-melting smiles.

"Morning, beautiful," I said to her. I climbed aboard the treadmill and started off on a slow walk.

"Hey, Les," Steph replied breathlessly. She smiled back, and her chubby cheeks glowed with warmth and sweat. She was wearing cute gym shorts and a matching t-shirt, her 9-months-pregnant belly swollen out in front of her.

"Manoso send you down here to exercise?" I asked her. She nodded and placed a hand on top of her belly.

"I'm three days past my due date and I'm trying just about anything to get her to come out."

"You know, there's one method that's been proven –

"Santos. Believe me, we've tried that." Steph blushed furiously. Her diamond engagement ring and wedding band caught the lights in the gym and I immediately thought back to the night of their wedding less than a year ago. I couldn't remember much, due to the fact that there was an open bar and _plenty _of tipsy, wedding-happy sweeties willing to do more than dance with me.

"I heard from the guys that you were completely unsuccessful at hooking up with some nurse last week at St. Francis," teased Stephanie. "I'm a little surprised, Les."

"Yeah, well, she just wasn't prepared to be on the receiving end of my many notorious talents." I picked it up to a light jog and made a face at Stephanie. "She don't know what she's missing."

"You're right. She must not have heard about your previous exploits," Steph pointed out. "It's well-known around Trenton that you have _serious_ bedroom skills."

"Damn right," I growled. "There's only two things I do best and mercenary work is the other one." Steph visibly shivered. Must have been the pregnancy hormones.

* * *

Bobby and I were headed towards the elevators at quarter to nine when I heard talking coming from down the hall. We approached Ranger's closed office door and stopped to listen. It sounded like a woman talking to him.

"Not Steph," I whispered to Bobby. He shook his head in agreement. We had just seen Stephanie in the gym a minute ago.

"Come here," Bobby hissed to me. He shoved me back down the hall and into the monitor room. "We're gonna get caught standing outside his door and he'll fuck us both up!" We slammed ourselves into the monitor room, oblivious to the strange stares we were receiving from Hal and Woody.

"Quick, pull up screen eight!" Bobby whispered. I hit a few buttons on one of the banks of monitors and sure enough, the camera that was outside Ranger's office door was rolling.

"We need sound," I stage-whispered. I located a headset and switched on the mics. I could clearly hear Ranger speaking in his office along with the laughter of a female.

"What's going on?" whispered Bobby. I made a face and violently waved at him to shut the fuck up so I could hear.

"_Mr. Manoso, what would my responsibilities be?"_ the woman asked. Her voice sounded vaguely familiar to me, but then again, I've probably spoken to ninety-eight percent of the women in Trenton.

"_I'm glad you asked. RangeMan is a highly confidential and extremely diplomatic operation. I have nearly fifty employees in Trenton alone, just in this building. It is of utmost importance to me that each and every one of them remains safe and healthy."_

"_I see." _

"_And I already employ a small staff of emergency medical personnel, but their skills and disciplines are limited. None have the education and experience that a registered nurse will surely have."_

"_And that's where I would come in,"_ the woman said.

"_Correct. Aside from your medical duties, you will be properly trained in logistics, security operations, firearms, and taskforce innovations. I see here that you are certified in critical care, emergency medicine, and trauma. What position do you currently hold?"_

"_I'm an emergency room nurse at St. Francis. I will be obtaining my nurse practitioner degree a week from tomorrow, from Rutgers."_

"_Excellent. Do you have other experience in first aid and critical care?"_

"_I've only been a nurse for five years, Mr. Manoso. Although I'm certified in critical care, I haven't been exposed to many of the most critical of situations."_

"Well, all of this is certainly impressive enough. I suppose you have many more years left in your career to be exposed to horrific events." 

The woman laughed._ "I suppose so."_

"_I'm looking forward to having someone start on the first of the month. I will have a couple of my men begin the training process with whoever I decide to hire." _

"_That would be ideal. It would give me plenty of time to notify St. Francis of my resignation, should you decide to employ me." _

"_It's looking well for you,"_ Ranger said.

"_Thank you so much for meeting with me," _gushed the woman.

"_It was my pleasure, Ms. Marrero." _

Suddenly, Ranger's door opened on the screen and I could absolutely NOT believe my fucking eyes. That fine-ass bitchy nurse from the ER last week was the woman he'd been talking to! I nearly shot out of my chair but Bobby's arm was dead weight on my shoulder. He was leaning down to look at the screen. I ripped off the headset and ran my hands over my face.

"What the hell, man? What went on in there?" hissed Bobby. There was no time to explain. I yanked Bobby out of the control room and out into the hall.

"Chill out, bro," I whispered, through clenched teeth. I dragged Bobby down the hall to the elevators where she was standing, waiting to be taken down to the lobby. She was wearing a tailored gray business suit, complete with a short skirt, a tiny top that showed some serious cleavage, and a form-fitting jacket. On her legs were black lace panty hose and on her feet were black stilettos with ankle straps. She was carrying a black briefcase and her thick, wavy dirty blonde hair was cascading down her back and around her shoulders. She turned her face to look at us behind her and I saw that she had on cute black-framed glasses. She looked like my English teacher in senior year...dear God, the night I had with HER…

She smiled that sexy little smirk when she saw that I was standing behind her.

"Lester Santos," she said, my name rolling off her tongue as she looked me up and down, her eyes darkening. I hoped I didn't look too disgusting, being that I'd worked out for nearly two hours this morning. By the flash of fire in her eyes, I'd say I looked like lunch to her.

"Good, you remembered," I said to her, in my best I'm-not-taking-no-for-an-answer tone. "Pretty soon you'll be screaming it."

"Doubtful," she scoffed, still smirking. I wanted to smack that smirk off her face and fuck her senseless against the elevator doors, not giving a shit if Bobby watched or not. "But it's nice to know that this is the security company that you work for."

"Why's that?" I growled, crossing my arms against my massive chest.

"Because if I'm hired by Mr. Manoso, I'll get to be the one who gives you your physical. And I just may have to give you a shot sometime." She raised a perfectly-tweezed eyebrow at me.

"That an invitation?"

"Think of it this way: don't come crashing the party." With that, she turned on her four-inch fuck-me heels and sashayed into the now-opened elevator. In seconds, she was gone from view. Bobby was standing next to me, speechless.

"She may be the hottest girl I've ever hated," I grumbled. Bobby still hadn't found his voice by the time I dragged him into the "up" elevator. We rode to the fourth floor in silence.

"Is that the girl?" he squeaked, finally able to speak. "The one that everyone's talking about? How the great Lester Santos actually struck out and got served by a chick?"

"That's the one," I muttered. "This ain't over until the fat lady sings."

"She might be singing any minute now," Bobby said. "She's already three days past her due date. Bossman says it could be tonight, even." We had gotten off the elevator and I was stalking to my apartment, Bobby trailing behind me.

"Don't EVER let Steph catch you say that she's fat," I roared, stopping short and Bobby rammed into me.

"Why? Did you?"

"Let's just say that she didn't appreciate this one pregnancy joke I told her." I turned around to face my door. I rammed the key into the lock and threw it open, scaring the shit out of my cat Moses. Moses flew four feet into the air and rushed to seek cover under my bed, along with all of the dust bunnies and porno magazines.

"Good to know." Bobby slapped me on the back and headed towards his apartment. "Peace."

"Later." I slammed myself into my foyer and crashed my way into the kitchen. I threw open the fridge and located an almost-empty bottle of Coke, guzzled it down, and tossed the bottle into the trash. I had exactly fifteen minutes to shower, shave, and report to RangeMan command central.

* * *

"And which one are you?" A saucy-looking eighty-year-old lady came up behind me and pinched my ass. I yelped and tried to scoot away, staring at her like she was insane. Sweet Jesus, Steph's Grandma Mazur had just molested me!

"Uh, Lester," I moaned weakly.

"You know, I have a new great-granddaughter now," Mrs. Mazur said proudly. "Her name is Samantha, but I think I'm gonna call her Sam."

"Yeah, I do know. I'm one of Ranger's best friends." I rubbed my ass. Damn, she got me pretty good.

"Yeah, the hot bounty hunter with the excellent package." She winked at Ranger and turned back to me. "Boy, you're just as hot!" Mrs. Mazur's face lit up and she moved to pinch me again, but I quickly caught on and backed away.

"Thanks," I muttered. Grandma Mazur headed down the hall and stepped into an elevator. Steph had just given birth a couple of hours ago and me, Ranger, and Tank were all sitting in the Labor & Delivery waiting room at Helene Fuld. Ranger was chomping on an un-lit cigar and Tank was drinking an iced latte from the Starbucks downstairs. Tank and I still hadn't seen the baby, so Ranger stood up and stuck the cigar into his pants pocket.

"Wanna check out the lil' mama?" he asked us.

"Hell yeah, man!" I jumped up and yanked Tank with me. We followed Ranger down the hall to Room 4165, where Steph was recovering. Ranger knocked quietly.

"Babe?" he called softly.

"Come in," came the reply. Ranger motioned for Tank and I to follow him into the room. It was empty, except for a hospital bed containing Stephanie and a teeny wooden cart parked next to it. Tank and I tiptoed up to Steph and we each leaned down to kiss her cheek.

"Samantha's in there," Steph said lightly, pointing to the teeny cart. The blankets on top of the teeny cart moved a bit and a pink sock poked out. Ranger's cell rang and he ducked outside into the hall to answer it. Tank went over to pick up Samantha and I sat with Steph on the bed and threw an arm around her shoulders. I kissed the curls that were matted against her forehead and snickered lightly.

"What?" she asked warily, smiling a little bit.

"So, maybe I can help you out with some strengthening exercises _down there,_" I said huskily. "Hopefully it will look the same after this."

"Santos," barked Tank, startling Samantha. "She just had a baby. Stop hitting on her."

"I'm not, geez," I protested. Steph was laughing.

"Les, I'm pretty sure it'll still look the same. If not, I'll have you kick Ranger's ass for impregnating me." Steph shrugged as if she'd just told me the sky was blue. Tank walked over with Samantha and handed her to me. She was so tiny and felt like she weighed hardly anything at all. I held her in front of me so I could talk to her, face-to-face.

"Listen, Sam," I began. "I'm Uncle Lester. You probably won't have an Aunt Lester anytime soon, because of certain stuck-up naughty nurses. But you do have an Uncle Tank, and an Aunt Lula. And of course a horny great-grandmother." Steph lightly smacked my head. "Best of all, we all love you so, so much and we will take care of you until we get old and gray, you got that?" I lowered the baby to my mouth and kissed her fuzzy little baby head.

"Why are you so hung up on this girl?" Steph asked me, confused.

"She keeps turning him down, that's why," remarked Tank. He headed out Steph's hospital room door to check on Ranger in the hall.

"Ahhh, the thrill of the chase," said Steph knowingly. She took Samantha from me and kissed her. "You're not used to being told 'no'."

"Damn right," I growled. "She actually interviewed with Ranger the other day for the RangeMan nurse practitioner position."

"No!" Steph was shocked.

"Yep. She turned me down _again_ at the 2nd floor elevator." I shook my head.

"Maybe she's married," Steph said.

"No. I secretly heard Ranger call her _Ms._ Marrero, and there's not a single ring on any of her fingers."

"Gay?" countered Steph.

"Definitely not. She looked at me like I was lunch."

"She's got to be married or something," Steph said.

"The strange part is that I think she wants me, too, but she won't knock down that fucking brick wall that she's got built up between us."

"Strange."

"Damn right."

* * *

The next day, I felt a little better about the stinging rejection by Nurse Ratched. I was supposed to pick up my younger sister Damaris at the downtown Trenton courthouse at noon, so I decided to take an early lunch break and head out. I grabbed an "Ella Original" sandwich to go from the kitchen, stopped by my office to get my keys, phone, and shades, and I was pulling my brand new black Platinum-edition Escalade out of the RangeMan garage in record time.

I swung the SUV into the courthouse parking lot, spotting my sister coming out of the double doors several feet away from where I was parked. I beeped the horn and she looked in my direction before scurrying over to my ride and hauling herself into the passenger's seat.

"You _have _to stop speeding, Mari," I told her. I was exasperated with her constant speeding tickets and license suspensions. "Haven't you been to enough fucking seminars?"

"Fuck off, Lester," she muttered. "I have to go back to court in two weeks to finalize this bullshit. Did you tell Mom you were coming to pick me up?"

"Naw. Luckily for you, she knows nothing about it this time." I squealed out of the courthouse parking lot and pointed the SUV in the direction of Hamilton Township. We drove in total silence for about ten minutes.

"You still seeing Monica?" she asked after while, glaring at me through eyes so much like my own that people thought we were twins.

"No."

"That lasted about a week," Damaris snickered. "Paco told me he saw her with Tiny the other day."

"Yeah, well Tiny can suck on my left nut," I muttered. "So can Monica."

"She's already done that," Damaris pointed out.

* * *

When I got back to RangeMan headquarters, a moving company, advertising that ex-con-looking movers will gently haul your shit, was unloading large cardboard boxes in the underground parking garage. I parked my SUV in my numbered spot and stalked into the elevator. I punched the button to the second floor and when I got off, Tank was marching around outside of Ranger's office door. He looked up and saw me.

"Santos," Tank called. "Bossman needs to have a word."

"Ten-four," I replied. I made my way into Ranger's office and Bobby and Cal were already seated in front of his desk. I did the complicated guy handshake thing with them and leaned against the wall behind them. Ranger glared at my untucked shirt, but said nothing. He looked too tired to argue with me about wardrobe at the moment. He'd just come from the hospital because he was still wearing his visitor sticker and pink name bracelet.

"I've hired a new addition to the RangeMan team," he began. "A nurse practitioner will be starting first thing next week. They'll be taking care of most of the medical aspects of the employees and staff in this building on an around-the-clock basis. Bobby, you will collaborate with the nurse practitioner in the new 6th floor clinic. An orthopedic specialist trained in other disciplines will be on call twenty-four-seven to attend to our needs."

My ears definitely perked up at this. Maybe he hired Nurse Sexy-Bitch. Maybe he hired a Nurse Ho-Hum-Plain-Jane. Who knew? Knowing Manoso, I was next to certain that Nurse Sexy-Bitch was hired. I sighed and Cal turned around to look at me.

"What?" he hissed.

"Nothing," I whispered back.

"Ladies?" grunted Ranger.

"Sorry, man," I replied. Cal nodded in agreement. Ranger droned on about the responsibilities of the new medical staff and what their role would be at RangeMan. I was only half paying attention. I was seriously fucking _dying _to know who the new nurse practitioner would be. Bobby kept looking back at me and raising his eyebrows. I took it he saw the moving boxes and put two and two together. Whoever it was, they were moving into the vacant apartment two doors down from mine, between Tank's and Woody's.

As soon as Ranger dismissed us, Bobby pulled me aside into the control room.

"Think it's her?" he asked me quietly.

"Knowing Manoso, the sick fuck, he definitely hired her." I stalked to the bank of monitors that covers the parking garage and zeroed in on the movers with the boxes. Several were marked "kitchen" and "bathroom" and "shoes". _Fuck _me, I thought. It was probably a whole box of shoes just like the ones she wore to the interview. A whole box of stiletto-heeled, sexy-colored fuck-me pumps (as Stephanie called them). And they'd be stored in a closet that was only separated from me by two fucking walls.

"Shit, how do we find out if it's her?" Bobby gritted out. He continued to stare at a monitor while I tried to quell my fuck-me-pumps-induced hard-on with thoughts of Grandma Mazur. I sighed and ran my hands through my freshly cut hair. Thick, tousled spikes on top and clean faded all the way around. If my barber died or went back to prison, I'd be S.O.L.

"Wait until you meet your doom, I guess," Bobby said. "Sorry, brother."

"Wait a second," I said, nudging Bobby on the arm. "What's this?" I pointed to the screen with the view of the garage entrance. A sleek black Infiniti G-35 sport coupe slid under the clearance overhang and stopped at the guard gate, sitting on custom 18-inch rims. Binkie stepped up to the driver's side window and said something to the driver. He stepped back, smiling, and the orgasm-inducing street machine pulled to a stop in the space directly beside my Escalade. I zoomed the camera in on the driver's side, but could only get a shot of the ass of the fucking gorgeous car. The driver's side door opened and a pair of stiletto heels poked out, followed by the long, luscious legs of their owner.

I growled low in my throat and it reverberated in my chest. My hard-on was back full force.

"Shit," I hissed. I knew EXACTLY whose legs those were.

**Soooo…is good ol' Lester enough of a perv? LOL please read and review! Thanks **


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: I do not own any of Janet Evanovich's characters, especially the Merry Men. I'll _think_ about returning Lester to her after I'm done with him, though…I own the OFC Nurse Dayna Marrero, so hands off! lol**

**Warning: Contains smut**

"Dude, you're playing with fire, man," Bobby said to me. "Bossman catches wind of this and you'll be up shit creek without a damn paddle."

"I'm sure he already has," I said. "Bunch of fuckin' blabbermouths around here."

"Think Bomber'll tell him?"

"Naah. She and I have, like, this unspoken pact of friendship, you know? Almost like a truce. I don't tell, she don't tell." I watched Dayna carry her 5'7" goddess-lookalike form across the parking garage, towards the elevator. I turned away from the monitors and leaned against the desk.

"What are you gonna do?" Bobby wanted to know.

"Fuck if I know." I hauled out my iPhone to do a time check. It was almost two. Manny and I had to be at T.P.D. headquarters by two-thirty to secure a high-bond skip for Ranger. I went into the control room's equipment storage area and located a pair of two-way radios. I handed one to Bobby.

"What the hell are these for?" asked Bobby, confused.

"I'm gonna be out all afternoon with Manny," I told him. "Nurse Ratched'll be here on the second floor, getting all settled in with you and Ranger. I want you to poke around, see what kind of Intel you can pick up on the situation. I want details, man." I clipped the two-way to the waist of the back of my cargoes and stuck the earpiece into my ear. I located my truck keys and shades and put a black RangeMan ball cap on backwards.

Bobby hooked himself up to the two-way and together we tuned it to the same frequency so that no one else knew what we were discussing. "Don't screw this up, Santos."

"Believe me, I won't, _cabrón._" I punched him lightly on the arm and jogged down the hall to Manny's office. Bobby headed into Ranger's conference room. Manny wasn't in his office. I whipped out my cell and called him.

"Where you at?" I asked when he answered.

"Down in the garage, waiting on you."

"Gimme five." I hung up on Manny and punched the elevator button about a million times. It was coming up from the lower lobby, otherwise known as the underground garage. I had a bad feeling about something all of a sudden.

The doors opened and Dayna Marrero stepped out in front of me, in all her glory. She pursed her full lips at me and narrowed her eyes. She was carrying the black briefcase again, dressed in a baby pink wraparound dress and those killer fucking stilettos.

"Better stop wrinkling your forehead," I said to her. "You'll need Botox."

"Does your boss approve of your attire?" she asked me coolly, holding her briefcase handle with both hands, eyeing my backwards hat, tight and untucked black t-shirt, baggy cargoes, and diamond stud earrings. Her eyes darkened again like last time and Lester Jr. stirred down in his dark confines.

"I can see that you obviously do." I gave her my million-dollar smile. "By the way. Next time you park your little Fast and the Furious go-cart next to my Escalade, please be sure not to open your door so wide. You might hit my passenger's side door panel."

"I'll be sure to keep an eye out," Dayna muttered. She glanced at the earpiece in my ear and the car keys in my hand. "Going on a top-secret mission, James Bond?"

"Yeah. It's called Operation: Getting As Far Away From You As I Possibly Can." With that, I brushed past her and headed towards the stairwell. I absolutely hated her. I no longer cared whether or not I got into her panties. I scoffed. That was a mother-freaking lie. I wanted her more than ever. Well, we all know that guys like me, Lester Santos, all want what they can't have, right?

"Bobby, can you give me a 20 on Nurse Ratched?" I spoke softly into the two-way. It took him a second before he could answer me. I had to strain to hear him because he was whispering.

"She and Ranger are touring her new 4th floor apartment," Bobby reported quietly. "I was following them around but I hung back when I heard you talking to me."

"She stare at Manoso's ass at all?" I wanted to know.

"Not once."

"Good." I slouched down in my seat and waited for Manny to come out of Sunny's Gun Range with our man, Simon Bateman. I had Fabolous in the CD player and I stared out across the parking lot at the doors to the range. Suddenly, the doors crashed open and Bateman flew out, his hands cuffed behind his back, escorted by an angry-looking Manny. I sat up straight and unlocked the doors so that Manny could get Bateman inside. They were having words outside in the parking lot.

"Fuck you," Bateman was saying to Manny. "I ain't goin' back to jail!"

"The hell you're not," scoffed Manny. "Get the fuck in or I'll taser you." With that, Bateman launched himself inside my Escalade and Manny climbed in after him, slamming the door. He shackled Bateman's ankles and hooked the shackles to the special hook in the floor of my backseat.

"Drive," demanded Manny, clearly pissed. I slammed the Escalade into drive and peeled out of the gun range parking lot.

At the cop shop, I parked in the criminal drop-off area and helped Manny haul Bateman inside. Bateman, obviously peeved about the outcome of our destination, thrashed and kicked in his cuffs and ankle shackles.

"If you kick me in the nuts I'm going to cut yours off," I growled at Bateman, when he thrashed his knees in the air. He quickly settled down and allowed Carl Costanza to cart him off to the drunk tank. Manny and I collected our paperwork and strolled back out to my SUV.

"Fucking lunatic, bro," I said, shaking my head. I heard Bobby's voice in my ear.

"Santos, do you copy?" he asked.

"Roger that, what do you have for me?"

"Ratched's getting tea with Cal in the kitchen."

"Oh, yeah?" I remoted the doors to my SUV open and Manny and I climbed in. "Tea, huh?"

"She said she hates coffee and prefers tea."

"Anything…a little juicier, Brown?"

"She's definitely moving into the apartment between Tank's and Woody's. Those were all her boxes down in the garage. She officially starts on Monday and she'll be giving us all our yearly physicals later on in the week. Ranger has her paired with you, me, Cal, and Erik for specific RangeMan training activities."

"ME?" I squeaked. "What the hell am I gonna teach her?"

"I'm guessing she already knows how to put on a condom, so I'm assuming something that has to do with logistics or Intel or 'munitions."

"Fuck you," I sneered.

"Shit, I have to go."

"Brown…Brown!" He wouldn't answer me. "FUCK!"

Manny was staring at me like I was just beamed down from fucking Mars.

I paced between my kitchen and the foyer, wearing nothing but a blue bath towel low on my hips. I seriously couldn't decide if I was excited to train Dayna or if I dreaded it. I settled on a little of both. If I could get her to stop being such a bitch to me, things might go well and I wouldn't have to choke her until she shut up or died or whatever came first. If she continued to harass me with snooty comments and her ill-fated humor, I might be tempted to lock her up in a large dog kennel and feed her treats until she became civilized again.

My cell rang. It was my mother.

"Why didn't you tell me that your sister got her license suspended again?" my mother wailed. "I swear to you Lester, I count on you to tell me what goes on in this damn family!"

"Ma, she's twenty-four. It's HER responsibility to tell you when she fucks up!"

"I swear, I'm getting too old for this shit!" sobbed my mother, in her ridiculously-thick Chicago Puerto Rican accent. I was afraid she'd bust the stitches on her gallbladder-ectomy, or whatever it was called. I bet Nurse Ratched down the hall would know.

"Want me to talk to her?" I said, exasperated.

"And say what?" my mom cried. I SO did not need this fuck-shit right now.

"I'm losing reception," I exclaimed. I feigned static and shut my phone off. I tossed it onto the counter and contemplated pulling out all of my hair, but I figured that'd make a mess and Ella had just swept the kitchen earlier.

The doorbell rang and I padded across the living room to spy out the peephole. My heart jumped. Shit, it was fucking _Dayna_! She was wearing a tank top and boxers, her hair in a long ponytail, carrying her cell phone. I panicked, not realizing I just had a damn towel on. I tumbled the locks and threw open the door.

"Hi," she said to me.

"Hi," I said back to her. She paused.

"Is this a bad time, Santos?"

"It's as good a time as any," I said, my voice a tad deeper than usual. I stepped aside to let her into my apartment.

"So do you always wear towels when company comes over?" she asked snottily, staring at my towel a little longer than she should have.

"Usually my guests prefer that I don't wear ANYthing." I shut the door behind her and leaned against it.

"Pig," she muttered. "I saw earlier that you have an iPhone, and I'm in need of a charger."

"Hmmm. Living in the building for less than four hours and already asking your neighbors for favors."

"That's fine. I can go next door to Woody's." Dayna turned on her heel and began to march toward me. I stepped away from the door, unblocking her exit, and picked up the white USB cable that plugs into the wall and my iPhone. I held it out to her.

"That would be silly as shit," I said to her. I smiled and raised my eyebrows. She gave me an uncertain look and gingerly reached out to take the cord. I held it firmly and she stumbled closer to me. She smelled like coconuts and I suddenly couldn't think about anything but how she would taste. I placed my pointer finger under her chin and tipped her face up towards mine, our hands still gripping the cord. I thought about her full, pink lips and how they'd feel pressed up against mine. I thought about her soft, pink tongue and how THAT would feel sliding into my mouth, and suddenly I lost control, grabbed the back of her head, and pressed my mouth fully onto hers.

She stiffened and breathed in sharply. She pulled back, breaking the contact our mouths had, and she seemed to be searching my face for…something. She stood on her tippy toes and captured my lips with hers, sending jolts coursing through my lower half and she let loose a long sigh against my mouth. We both let go of the cord and it dropped between us, somehow forgotten. I brushed my hands slowly down her arms, letting them fall to her waist, splaying them on either hip, dropping them to her ass.

I felt her arms come around my neck and one of her hands slithered into my hair and I pressed her pelvis into my groin to let her feel my response to her.

"Open for me, baby," I mumbled, a breath away from her lips. She parted the two pink pillows that were caressing mine and I slipped my tongue into the heated depths of her sweet mouth. She moaned softly and the sound vibrated through my body and landed in parts south, causing me to swell even more with the want for her.

I slowly backed her into the darkened kitchen and reached out to flick on the nightlight. She clung to me, grinding those amazing hips up to meet mine, and I picked her up and set her down on the center island. I continued to kiss her and torture her mouth with mine and her breathing quickened when my fingertips made their way to the crotch of her tiny boxers. I gently pushed her shorts aside and when I felt how damp she was I hardened beyond belief and moaned into her neck.

"Shit," I breathed. My fingers were tripping as I pushed down a little bit on her clit, causing her breath to hitch in her throat and a fresh flood of dampness to soak her panties. She dug her nails into my back, leaving half-moons everywhere. I felt her take my earlobe into her mouth, complete with my earring, and the feeling was unlike anything I'd ever felt. _No one_ has _ever_ done that before and it was so fucking hot that I couldn't hold out any longer.

I was sweating bullets as my fingertips grazed her wetness and I felt her lips softly on my neck. She put her lips next to my ear and I felt her hand cover the hand of mine that was hovering over her wetness.

"Do it," she whispered seductively in my ear. She sucked my earlobe into her mouth again and I immediately plunged two fingers deep inside of her, and she cried out and buried her face in my shoulder with her hands gripping my biceps. I curled my fingers deep inside her and located the spongy spot that makes all women's dreams come true. She was so tight and wet and hot, and I couldn't help but wonder when the last time she'd been thoroughly fucked was…

"Tell me how good this feels," I mumbled against her lips. She sucked my bottom lip into her mouth and let it pop back out.

"So fucking _good_." She clawed at my back some more and her breathing speeded up even faster than it already was. This girl was an absolute wildcat. I couldn't get enough of her. I couldn't even remember the last time I'd wanted anyone so badly.

She was fast approaching meltdown and I did not deny her the release that she seemed to so desperately need. I felt her inner walls clamp down around my fingers and I knew she was in ecstasy when her eyelashes began fluttering and a deep blush rose up on her cheeks. She gasped her release into my neck and had her bottom lip sucked between her teeth.

"Fuck, baby, let it go," I murmured against her cheek. She sucked in a breath and held it and suddenly I heard it:

"LESTER!"

She was screaming my name a lot sooner than I thought she'd be.

* * *

When Dayna was spent, she lay draped against my shoulder in a sated heap of sweaty flesh. I kissed her cheek and she picked her head up.

"Damn, when was the last time you got any?" I asked her.

"That's none of your business," she said primly. She pushed herself off of my body and hopped off of the island. She adjusted her boxer shorts and panties and located the forgotten iPhone cable.

"Um, what are you doing?" I asked her.

"Taking what you're lending me." Dayna smirked and waved the phone cord at me. She winked and was out my door before I could blink. _Fuck._ That bitch! I thought. Using me to get her social orgasm and then it was Bye-Bye, Lester. Well, I thought bitterly, two can play that game.


	4. Chapter 4

**Thank you to all who have read and reviewed! I'm trying my best to update when I can. **

**Disclaimer: Contains smut and Lester's potty mouth… **

When I got out of the shower the next morning, my doorbell was ringing. The idiot on the other side alternated the ringing with polite knocking, probably hoping I'd answer quickly and not blow their brains out. I threw on a pair of green basketball shorts and flipped the locks.

"What?" I grumbled, throwing open my door to Ram.

"Meeting in twenty," he said to me. "Who'd you have in here last night, man?" Ram's smile looked like it was going to stretch off his fucking face. Movement from behind Ram caught my eye, and a flash of dirty blonde hair appeared in my view. Dayna fucking Marrero chose that moment to exit her snooty-ass apartment and heard Ram ask me that ridiculous accusatory question. She stopped behind Ram, her eyes wide. She shook her head at me, silently telling me to shut the fuck up and lie to Ram. I saw her and quickly looked back at Ram, clearing my throat.

"Why, bro?"

"Tank and me walked by your door last night and heard some chick screaming your name. What the fuck were you _doing _to her, man? She still in there?" Ram asked, trying to peek through my open door.

"I don't know what you're talking about, Ramos," I growled.

"Oh."

"Maybe you and Tank need your hearing checked," I suggested darkly. I slammed the door in Ram's face and stalked back into the bathroom to shave.

Fucking Ranger and his stupid-ass meetings. I usually tune him out and then get the short version later from either Manny or Bobby. All I really cared about was that if he'd someday flip out and send me back to Uzbekistan for two months to "calm down" again.

Ranger was droning on about the latest security detail that RangeMan had been hired for. Some swanky law firm nearby was constantly worrying about going up in flames due to several bomb threats made by a disgruntled former employee. So they hired a tag team of crazed mercenaries to look after the place, twenty-four-seven. Smart people.

"Santos," Ranger snapped. I quickly lifted my forehead up off the conference room table and tried to focus in on his face. He didn't look happy with my attempt at a catnap.

"Yes, sir," I sputtered.

"I need you to organize this account," Ranger ordered. I nodded.

"No problem."

"Good. You're dismissed." The guys stood up from the table and they all began talking. I sagged out of the conference room and into the hall, where Bobby was discreetly waiting for me. I slunk into the control room and he fell into step behind me. As soon as we were alone, he slugged me hard in the crook of my shoulder.

"Um…ow?" I exclaimed.

"Who the fuck was in your apartment last night, dawg?" Bobby hissed.

"Aiight. If I tell you, you have to take it to your fucking grave." I rubbed my shoulder. "Ramos already asked me about it this morning and I basically told him to fuck off."

"Sweet little baby Jesus, just tell me already."

I took a deep breath. "Dayna."

"Nurse Ratched?" Bobby stared at me in disbelief.

"Yeah, man! She came over to borrow my iPhone charger and then she let me feel her up in the kitchen."

Bobby doubled over so far that his corn rowed head brushed the floor. A bark of insane laughter left his mouth and he stumbled forward, flipping head-first into a rolling desk chair. I went over to him and kicked his shin with my boot.

"Something funny?" I growled.

"I just can't believe this, man. How the _hell_ did THAT happen?" Bobby got on his feet and stared at me, arms crossed.

"And it gets better," I continued. "Afterwards, she just winks at me and walks out. She had my phone charger in her hand."

"No!"

"I have to talk to her," I said. "There's no way I'm gonna pretend this never happened."

"How was it, though?" Bobby wanted to know.

"So hot that I cried myself to sleep last night."

* * *

"Lester," a voice said from behind me. I was alone in the kitchen, concocting myself a strawberry, banana, and mango protein smoothie with the fresh fruit that Ella had left out for us. I didn't have to turn my head to know who it was.

"Look who it is," I grumbled. "Miss Thoroughly-Satisfied." I poured the smoothie into a leftover plastic Taco Bell cup and stuck a straw in it.

"About last night," Dayna began. I heard her heeled footsteps approach me. I finally turned to face her and my stomach tightened. She had straightened her hair this morning. It hung nearly down to her ass in thick layers. She was wearing a tight gray dress that hit mid-thigh, the orgasm-inducing FMPs, and a tailored white jacket with her name and title stitched on the front. _Dayna C. Marrero, RN, MSN, ARNP-C. _I thought _Huge Bitch _should have been included in there somewhere, too.

"What about it?" I leaned against the counter and sucked up my smoothie.

"I'd prefer it if we got past that and never let it happen again."

"Sure," I said nonchalantly. "If that's what you want."

"Yeah. It is." Dayna pursed her lips and cleared her throat. "I understand you're supposed to be showing me some kind of firearm today?"

"Who said that?" I asked.

"Mr. Manoso."

"Stand by," I said to her.

I left Dayna frowning in the kitchen and stalked into Ranger's office without knocking. He looked up from his computer screen and watched me as I flopped down into his guest chair.

"What's this about me training Dayna Marrero down in the arsenal this afternoon?" I asked him.

"You need to start checking your memos, Santos." Ranger frowned.

"What memo?" I whipped out my cell and pulled up my email, finding the damn memo. "Oh."

"Start off with the basics."

"Aiight." I lifted myself out of the chair and headed out of Ranger's office.

* * *

It was five minutes to two o'clock and I was in the control room with Bobby. He was watching the monitors that viewed the lower lobby, the garage, the arsenal, and the gun range. Luckily for me.

"I'm training Dayna Marrero down in the fucking arsenal today," I told him.

"Shit, you serious?"

"Yeah. She told me an hour ago that she wants to forget what happened last night and never think about it again."

"Damn, that's harsh," Bobby commented.

"Yeah, it was. But I guaran-fucking-tee you that she WILL think about it over and over again or the Pope isn't Catholic." I crossed my arms and leaned against Bobby's desk.

"True. Most girls say it's pretty hard to forget a night with you, Santos."

"Damn right," I growled. I heard Ranger's voice in my earpiece.

"Santos! Get your ass down to the arsenal!" he barked.

"Yes, sir," I answered. I clapped Bobby on the back and jogged towards the elevator.

I reached the arsenal and it was empty, so I headed over to the lockup to retrieve one of my favorite toys: an AK-47 assault rifle that produced hydrostatic shock in unfortunate targets. I took it apart and was putting it back together when I heard the heavy cage door to the arsenal open and Dayna stepped inside. I completely ignored her until she came to stand next to me and I could smell her perfume. I glanced at her out of the corner of my eye and noticed that she'd changed her outfit for our lesson today. She was wearing a black RangeMan stretchy t-shirt and black cargoes.

"Have you ever held a gun before?" I asked her, next to positive that she hadn't.

"No."

"Good. You'd probably have killed someone by now with that attitude of yours."

"I don't appreciate your obnoxious comments, Santos," she said angrily. "Just show me what you have to show me so I can be on my way."  
I sighed. "Rang – Mr. Manoso – wants me to show you the basic weapons that we hold here in the arsenal. If we have time, I'm supposed to go to the range with you and teach you how to fire a pistol." I glanced at her and suddenly I thought back to the night before, when my hand was buried between her legs and her tongue was sliding deep into my mouth. It just didn't add up.

"Okay," she agreed. "That's fair."

I put the AK-47 aside and located a small handgun. "This is a Colt M1911A1. It's a semi-automatic pistol that shoots .45's." I handed it to her and she took it from me, holding it between her thumb and pointer finger like it was swarming with ants or some shit.

"Sure," she said nervously.

"What," I said. "Scared of it?"

"No," she said haughtily. "Just a little…apprehensive about using one of these. Guns kill people, you know!"

"No," I said with fake wonderment. "I thought they blasted you with a burst of fresh air!" I grabbed the Colt from her hand and tossed it onto the counter.

"You have some nerve!" Dayna was looking at me like she'd just had her body cavities searched by canines. I plowed ahead with the firearms lesson, itching to get it over with so I could go hang garlic from my neck and sleep with a cross under my pillow.

I handed her a Glock 9mm and she gingerly took it from me, holding it in the palm of her hand. "This is what we'll be practicing with today if we make it to the range."

"Swell," she muttered.

"Or, how about this instead: RangeMan employees have so many enemies that sooner or later the crazies will find out you don't carry a gun and try to kill you."

"What?" she exclaimed.

"You heard me." I took the Glock from her and jammed it into the waistband of my cargoes for later use. Maybe on her.

"Boy, you are just a wealth of information!" Dayna said snootily. She lifted my t-shirt and grabbed the gun from the back of my waistband, her smooth fingers brushing against my warm skin. "Which way to the range?" She started towards the door with the Glock.

"Hey, hey, hey," I said, running after her and reclaiming the gun. "More lessons first."

Thirty minutes and two short fights later, Dayna was able to hold the Glock like a regular person would.

"I think I'm ready now," she stated.

"Think so?" I mumbled. She glared at me as I loaded the Glock and grabbed a couple boxes of bullets. I headed out of the arsenal, leaving her to follow me.

Down in the empty, darkened gun range, I hit the lights for lane #1 and put everything on the little metal shelf.

"Put these on." I handed her some squishy foam earplugs and watched as she stuffed them into her ears.

"I like these," she said. "Now I won't be able to hear your ridiculous comments!"

I seethed. Maybe I shouldn't be in a gun range with her, after all. Too much temptation to shoot her in the fucking kneecap.

"Save it," I said, my hand in her face. She made a face at me and I knew she was thinking that she'd like to kick my fucking nuts with her boot and watch me squirm on the cement floor.

She sighed audibly for the millionth time since we'd been together. "You're just mad about last night."

"Last night?" I said, acting confused. "I was alone in my apartment last night. I don't know what you're talking about." I jammed a clip of 9mm hydroshocks into the Glock and cocked it.

"Gonna shoot me?" she asked, looking amused.

"Thinkin' about it." I put the gun on the counter and stood back, my arms crossed over my chest. I looked at her expectantly. "Well?"

"What, you just expect me to know what to do?" Dayna asked, incredulously.

"You're the gun expert now, after thirty minutes of hard-core training. Go for it."

"Fine." She walked up to the counter, picked up the gun, and aimed it at the target. Ten seconds went by and I heard no shot.

"I'm waiting," I said.

"I can't – could you – I need your help," she exclaimed. I sighed and walked up to her.

"You really are fucking pathetic," I said to her. Dayna frowned furiously and whipped her hair around her shoulders.

"Just show me what to do!"

"You're not standing right," I said.

"How else do you want me to stand?" she exclaimed. "I only have two legs!"

"Oooh, a nurse AND a rocket scientist." I grabbed the gun from her and got into my shooting position. I squinted at the target, took a deep breath, and fired off a shot. It hit the target square between the eyes. Dayna squealed behind me when the gun went off.

"How did you do that?" she demanded.

"Through the magic of pulling a trigger." I handed her the gun and she attempted to replicate my stance, only she was sticking her ass out more than I had been. "What are you doing?"

"Trying to copy how you're standing," she replied. "I probably look like an idiot, huh."

"Not really," I said. She raised her eyebrows at me in disbelief that I didn't have a vicious comment for her. "Don't stick your ass out so much. I may be tempted to grab the hell out of it." I chambered another bullet in the Glock and handed it back to her. She attempted to aim at the target again, but dropped her arms after a few seconds.

"You know, I hardly know anything about you." She set the gun down on the counter and removed the squishy foam from her ears.

"You know all you have to know about me." I assumed she was done for the day and removed the clip from the Glock.

"I find that hard to believe." Dayna smirked and crossed her arms.

I sighed again. "What do you want to know?"

"Anything."

"Fine. You wanna know something about me? I'm twenty-eight years old. My middle name is Alejandro. I have two younger brothers and two sisters who all live here in Jersey. My parents moved from Puerto Rico to Chicago in 1978 and still reside there. I goofed off all through high school and still managed to graduate. I was in the Army for eight years and spent the last two in Special Forces. My expertise is in military logistics, statistical operations, and Intel. I've been extensively trained as a sniper and can tell you every single part to any firearm you can think of. My favorite color is green and my secret favorite show is Gossip Girl because Leighton Meester is the hottest woman I've ever seen on my fucking TV screen."

"Geez, just write me an autobiography, why don't you?" Dayna shook her head.

"Give me some time, and I could really hate you."

"Too late for that," she said. "I'll tell you what, Santos."

I slammed my fist down on the counter, shaking the gun and box of ammo. "What?" I sounded so angry that I didn't even recognize my own voice.

"Here's what we're going to do about our little situation," Dayna began. "I think that –

"Here's what **I **think. I think that it's been so long since you've been FUCKED that you don't even know how to act like a human anymore. And you know what's such a shame about that? The fact that you don't even KNOW that's what you need! It's so painfully obvious that you're hot. You're downright sexy to me. In fact, I'm almost certain that you're the most beautiful woman I've ever laid my eyes on. But none of that matters, because you're such a goddamn BITCH!" I was so pissed that I was fucking hard and it felt like my heart was going to beat out of my chest. Dayna looked as though I'd just slapped her in the face. Her eyes were blazing with anger and her face was red.

"Well if you're so certain that's what I need, then why don't you do something about it, Santos?" she yelled at me. "Every time I see you my fucking panties get soaked because I'm so attracted to you. I get into a state and your childish comments and nitpicks just keep getting me madder and madder at you! So stop telling me what I need and just –

"Just WHAT?" I hollered.

Dayna went silent. "Just…nevermind." She kept her arms crossed as she started walking quickly to the door of the range. I blocked her exit with my 6'2" frame and glared at her.

"Don't walk away from me," I gritted out. She frowned and stalked to the darkest corner of the range, probably hoping she'd disappear. "I can still see you."

"So?" was the belligerent reply. "You keep telling me what I need, so whatever."

"You do need it."

"And I guess you're not going to be the one who fixes that, huh?"

"Only if you want me to."

"Well, I want you to."

I scoffed. "Yeah. You really mean that."

Dayna's eyes turned deep midnight blue and I could have sworn I saw flecks of red in them. She put her hand on my chest and quickly backed me into the cold cement wall of the range and I bumped hard up against it. She was scaring the hell out of me and turning me the fuck on at the same time. I wasn't sure if I should use the gun on her or rip her clothes off.

"I mean it, Santos."

"What do you want me to do to you?" I asked her. My voice had gone deep and sounded rough, like I'd just woken up.

"I want you to fuck me."

I grabbed onto her wrist and yanked her flush up against my body while I whipped out my cell and dialed Bobby in the control room.

"Cut off the motherfucking cameras down here." I slammed the phone onto the shelf closest to me and yanked Dayna's head back by her hair, exposing the milky flesh of her throat to my hot mouth. She cried out at the intenseness of my actions as I tangled my hand in her tresses. I bit down hard on her neck and sucked until she bruised deep purple. My dick was so hard I was afraid I'd somehow break it and it scared me for a minute. I had it pressed into her hip and she grinded against me as I sucked on her throat like a fucking vampire.

"How do you want it?" I grumbled against her neck. I sucked her earlobe into my mouth and she groaned long and low.

"Hard."

"_Fuck." _I bit her ear at the sound of that word on her lips and felt her jump a little against my crotch. I had no patience for any kind of foreplay. I needed to be buried deep inside her, and I needed it now. I unbuckled my belt and let my cargoes fall to the floor, puddling around my boots, and she growled low in her throat when she saw I was commando.

I undid her cargoes and let them fall to the floor as I got an eyeful of her panties. Black lace with tiny red flowers stitched on them. She had her hands up my t-shirt and she was rubbing on my abs when I inched the wet, ruined lace down her silky thighs. I bent down to quickly unlace her boots, chucking them to the side and whisking off her cargoes and panties. I grabbed her around the waist and lifted her up, pushing her back against the cement wall, and she wrapped her legs around my hips.

"There's no going back," I rasped. "Just to let you know." I buried my tongue deep in her mouth as she writhed against me. I could feel her wet warmth on the length of my cock and she was rubbing herself on me, getting me wet with her silky fluids.

I strained to hear a reply from her lips. I nearly died when she whispered, "Okay."

I sank into her in one swift movement, both of us groaning at the feeling of penetration. She was so hot and wet and _tight…_fuck. I was a goner.

Her insides quivered as she let the sensations overtake her, and her head fell back against the wall and her eyes were shutting. I pulled almost all the way out and slammed back in again, eliciting a growl from deep within her throat.

I knew neither of us would last very long. I had only thrust into her four times, slow and deep, and I sensed she was close because of the way her wetness felt around my dick. It was wetter and hotter, and somehow tighter. I reached in between us and pinched her clit hard and she shattered into pieces and screamed for me, causing me to come with her, and I was shooting off deep inside of her. I had never felt anything so intense in my life. Jesus.

Dayna slid to the floor when she could no longer take being up against the wall. She put her arms around my neck and kissed me, her tongue sliding against mine softly. I moaned a little into her mouth as she sucked on my tongue.

"That felt so incredible," she whispered to me, smirking. No, she wasn't smirking. She was smiling at me.

My voice was still deep from growling out my release. "Oh, yeah?"

"Mmmm," was her reply. She let go of me and located her pants. She put them on and began to lace up her boots. I reluctantly hiked up my cargoes and secured them around my waist. When Dayna was done dressing, she slid to the floor against the wall and pulled me down with her. I hauled her into my lap and we sat together for awhile, Dayna playing with my fingers, trying to regain our composure from earlier.

"Come over again tonight," I said to her quietly. I kissed her lightly.

"I'll think about it," she said wryly, smiling again.

"I make pretty good bagel pizzas," I pointed out. "Extra cheese." Dayna laughed. I realized that was the first time I'd ever heard her laugh. It was so beautiful.

"Sure," she said. "I will. But I'll pass on the bagel pizzas."

"How about regular pizza?" I asked.

"That sounds MUCH better."

**Will Dayna and Lester stand to be around each other long enough to try dating? More to come soon! **


	5. Chapter 5

**Hope everyone is liking the story so far. I've gotten a couple of suggestions for how it should continue so I've decided to play around with them. Thanks for your reviews! ****Jill **

The control room was quiet when I got back upstairs from the gun range. The only sound heard was the hum of the monitors. Bobby was parked in his seat, watching the underground garage. I guess he didn't hear me come in, because he flew across the fucking room when I came up behind him.

"Shit," he gasped. "Make a sound or somethin', man."

"My bad," I apologized. "I'll be in my office if you need me. Bossman has me working on some security account for the Leiderman Law Offices."

"Ten-four," Bobby replied. "About the cameras earlier…"

"Don't ask."

"You'd tell me if you hit that, right?" Bobby grinned, raising his eyebrows.

"I truly would not."

"But you did."

"Of course I did."

* * *

At six o'clock on the dot, I slammed my laptop shut and rolled my chair back from my desk. My contacts were making my eyes itch and I realized that once again, I'd forgotten to pick up a bottle of rewetting solution at Walgreens. _Fuck._

"Knock knock," a voice said from my doorway. It was Dayna. She was back to wearing her gray dress and lab coat, the obnoxiously-sexy ankle-strap heels back on her perfectly-pedicured feet.

"You can come in," I told her. "It's not like its Fort Knox, or anything." I smiled.

"So, this is your office," she said, looking around. "Manly."

She must have been referring to the calendar on the wall featuring half-naked chicks, the pile of sneakers and gym clothes on the floor in the corner, and the little toy military action figurines lining my credenza.

"My nephew collects them for me," I explained, when her eyes settled on a Barbie-doll-sized GI Joe.

"Cute," she said. "Um, I came by to tell you that I forgot I had other plans tonight."

"Oh, yeah?" I replied. I sat back in my chair and looked at her.

"Just some…family stuff."

"So, some family stuff." I smirked.

"Yeah. But we'll definitely talk, though," she said.

"Sounds good. Have fun tonight." I got up from my desk and went over to where she was standing. I followed her out of my office and we headed down the hall.

On the way to the elevator, we both spotted something pink and brown heading towards us from the opposite end of the hall. The brown was Stephanie's head. The pink was the baby stroller she was pushing.

"Hey, beautiful," I exclaimed. Dayna looked confused when I swept Steph into a tight hug. I bent down to take a look at Samantha, who was sleeping. "Hey, lil' mama."

"Good to see you, Santos," Steph said to me. She glanced at Dayna. "You must be Dayna Marrero." Steph extended her hand to Dayna and she shook it, still confused.

"This is Stephanie Manoso," I told her. "Ranger's wife." Dayna let out a huge sigh and smiled, chuckling a little.

"Mrs. Manoso, it's great to meet you," she exclaimed.

"Ditto," Steph said. "I've heard a lot about you."

"You have?" Dayna raised her eyebrows and turned to look at me questioningly.

"Uh…yeah. You know, from Ranger and all…geez, look at the time!" Stephanie nervously glanced at her watch and gave a phony bark of laughter.

"It's been a pleasure," Dayna said, bending down to get a gander at Samantha. "She's beautiful."

"Thank you," Steph said. She made sure Dayna was still bending down into Samantha's stroller before mouthing to me," Oh my God!" She furrowed her brow. "Good work, Les." She made the "okay" sign with her hand and smiled a naughty smile at me. I blushed red and shoved her lightly.

"We'll see you later," I said to Steph. I took Dayna by the hand and led her to the elevators. Steph walked off towards Ranger's office with the baby. I swear, if we weren't such good friends and she wasn't a woman I'd have punched her in the arm.

"Sorry about tonight," Dayna said to me when we were alone.

"It's fine," I reassured her. "Don't worry about it." We got into the elevator and rode up to the 4th floor. When we got off, I walked her to her apartment.

"So I'll see you tomorrow?" she asked me.

"Yeah." I kissed her thoroughly and when I was done with her, her eyes were glazed over and she had a tiny bit of drool on her lip. "Nighty-night." I left her standing in her doorway, in a state, and locked myself into my apartment.

I was blind as a fucking bat without my contacts. I knew I needed solution, so I banged on Cal's door until he threw it open and yanked me inside his apartment. Some kind of incense was burning in the living room, and he had strange music playing.

"What the fuck are you doing in here, man?" I asked him. I frowned and stared at the small mat that was set up in front of his plasma.

"A little yoga," he replied. This from the guy with the flaming skull tattooed on his forehead.

"Yoga…" I was mortified. He was shirtless and in gym shorts, so I figured it was okay since he wasn't wearing a leotard and leg warmers or some shit.

"Nothing like a little relaxation to stave off the stress of being a mercenary." Cal ushered me into his living room, where he promptly returned to his little mat and hit "play" on the Blu-Ray. He folded his 6 foot, three-inch body into a twisty position and breathed out deeply, mimicking the fruitcake on his TV. Cal looked like he was enjoying yoga.

"So, when did you start this shit?" I asked, gesturing toward the yoga mat.

"A few weeks ago," Cal answered. He stood up and reached his arms up towards the ceiling, letting his eyelids flutter closed in orgasmic satisfaction.

"Sounds like fun, brother. Listen, do you have any contact solution?" I asked him.

"In the bathroom vanity." Cal bent forward and touched the floor with his fingertips, not bending his knees. I stalked into his bathroom and located the solution, and when I returned to the living room Cal was lying face up on the mat, his arms at his sides and his eyes closed. The fruitcake on the plasma screen was reciting something that sounded suicidally boring, and little bells were chiming from the surround-sound speakers.

"I'll get this back to you," I said, backing out of the living room, thoroughly frightened by Cal's new hobby. Just as I approached his front door, it opened and Tank walked in, carrying a yoga mat and wearing gym clothes.

"Santos," he barked in greeting.

"Tank," I replied, nodding to him. I had to get the hell out of there before I witnessed their dicks falling off and vaginas growing in their places.

I showered as soon as I got back to my apartment to get the fruitcake incense smell off my skin. I thought about Dayna while I showered, and wondered what she was really gonna be up to that night. I thought about earlier, in the gun range, and wondered if she truly meant all of the shit she'd said. I decided that I didn't want to tell anyone that we'd been messing around, except for Bobby, since I already told him. She just started her job here, and I didn't want to screw that up for her. Plus, this was a building full of blabbermouths. Word of a relationship between me and her wouldn't make Ranger very happy. Since I'd fucked his sister Andréa six months ago, he's been reluctant to introduce me to any of his female family members or other female acquaintances. I was guessing that female employees were off-limits, too.

Ella had done my laundry, so everything I owned was clean. I dried off, stretched a black tank top over my upper half, and yanked on some baggy black basketball shorts. My outfit of choice when I wasn't required to deck myself out in head-to-toe RangeMan.

Since I didn't have plans anymore for the evening, I stuck a frozen pizza in the oven and cracked open a Corona. I flipped on the X-Box and powered up the newest, hottest game in the world: Modern Warfare: Call of Duty. Exxxxcellent.

I was really getting into the game when someone pounded on my door. I hit 'pause' and got my ass up from the couch to check it out. Maybe it was Dayna.

No such luck. I threw my door open to Manny. "Hey, man," I greeted him, stepping aside to let him in.

"I smelled pizza cooking, cabrón," Manny said. He shut himself into my apartment and kicked off his Bates boots, then tossed his two-way and wires on the kitchen counter. "Got extra?"

"For you? Shit," I said, grinning. I got him a beer and he followed me back into my living room. He settled himself on the couch and grabbed the second wireless X-Box remote.

"Start this shit over, man." He took a pull on his beer and belched. "Dame un cigarillo."

"You fucking crazy, bro?" I shook my head in disbelief and restarted the game in two-player mode.

"You could say that." Manny sipped from his Corona again and laughed. "Manoso would think of creative ways to kill me if he caught us burning herb in here."

"No one's burning shit in here," I said. The over timer went off and I took out the pizza, then cut it up and stuck it on a plate. I carried it out to the living room and we dug in, chewing in silence until Manny burped again.

"Dude," I said, disgusted.

"What? You used to do it better than me, man."

"I'm too old for that," I explained.

"Bullshit."

"Seriously. I'm 28 now."

"And that's the perfect age to do gross things." Manny kicked his feet up on my glass coffee table and began to start the game without me. I sprawled myself out on the plush carpet and we continued the game, every now and then hollering obscenities at the plasma screen and slamming our controllers into the couch cushions. Manny only got violent twice, which was a big improvement over last time we'd played X-Box together. He grabbed hold of the thin gold chain around my neck, which held mi abuela Maria's antique gold crucifix. I told him that if he broke my shit, I'd hack him up with the pizza cutter. He calmed down after that, only using minimal cuss words and punching one pillow.

At eight-thirty, I suddenly got a weird feeling in my gut. I assumed it was from the pizza, and battling over X-Box with Manny. I couldn't shake it. I got up to go to the bathroom, but that wasn't it. I flopped back down onto the floor with the controller, but had to pause it three minutes back into the game.

"You okay, shithead?" Manny asked me. I shook my head and rubbed my stomach.

"I don't know," I replied. "I hope so." Just as the words left my mouth, my cell rang. It was Bobby.

"Yo," I answered.

"Better get down here quick," Bobby hissed. "I got a bad feeling about somethin'."

"Shit, what happened?" I groaned, but Bobby had already hung up. I turned to Manny, who had the game paused while I talked to Brown.

"Situation?" he demanded.

"Brown just called up and told me to get my ass downstairs quick. He's behind the desk in the lobby, doing reception for Woody tonight." I slid black ankle socks on my feet and jammed them into my Puma soccer sandals.

"Let's roll," Manny said. He tossed his controller onto the couch and followed me out the door. I had my Glock jammed into the waistband of my shorts and my two-way on stand-by. We crept quietly down the dimly-lit hallway and bypassed the elevator. We thundered down the stairs and reached the main RangeMan lobby in record time.

Bobby was ahead of us, seated at the reception desk behind several monitors. He wasn't watching the monitors. Instead, he was watching a guy in a blue sweater who was carrying a bouquet of flowers come up to the front door and pause in front of the glass, checking out his hair. The guy had gotten out of a green Jag and was getting ready to throw open one of the glass double doors. Manny and I approached Bobby's desk and he turned to acknowledge our presence as we crept behind the desk with him. The three of us watched as the Jag guy let himself into the building and composed himself in the foyer.

"Can I help you?" barked Bobby. The guy smiled warmly and held up his flowers.

"My name's Brent," he said happily.

"What's that you got there, Brent?" asked Bobby darkly. Brent frowned.

"They're flowers…" he exclaimed, some of the wind knocked out of his sails. Manny and I stood behind Bobby's chair, arms crossed and looking like death marchers.

"A comedian," Bobby grumbled. "May I ask why you're here, young fella?"

"Oh! I'm sorry, I guess I forgot to tell you who I am!" Brent smiled again and giggled, reaching for his wallet and extracting his driver's license.

"Please do," Bobby insisted.

"I'm Brent Hannigan. I'm supposed to be headed up to the fourth floor." Brent gestured towards the elevator with his bouquet after showing Bobby his ID.

"There's mostly men up there, Hannigan," growled Bobby. "I'm sure none of them would appreciate your kind gesture with the flowers." _Tank and Cal might, _I thought, suppressing a bark of laughter. I could just picture them up there, smelling the incense together and doing their own version of Downward Dog.

"Actually, I'm here to see Dayna Marrero," explained Brent. "She just moved in up there."

"What do you want with her?" I growled darkly. I must have scared the fuck outta the poor guy, because he paled and his eyes grew wide.

"I'm sorry, I'm not a stranger," he explained, setting the flowers down and holding up his hands like we'd shoot him. "I showed you ID!"

"I don't give a fuck WHAT you are or aren't." If looks could kill…

"You don't understand," panicked Brent. "She's my fiancée!"


	6. Chapter 6

"_Actually, I'm here to see Dayna Marrero," explained Brent. "She just moved in up there."_

"_What do you want with her?" I growled darkly. I must have scared the fuck outta the poor guy, because he paled and his eyes grew wide._

"_I'm sorry, I'm not a stranger," he explained, setting the flowers down and holding up his hands like we'd shoot him. "I showed you ID!"_

"_I don't give a fuck WHAT you are or aren't." If looks could kill…_

"_You don't understand," panicked Brent. "She's my fiancée!"_

* * *

Bobby was the one who helped me drag myself back up to my apartment after that Brent fucker ripped my intestines out through my belly button and tangled them around my neck. He got Binkie to cover the reception desk monitors for him while he took care of my depressed ass.

"Get it together, man," Bobby was saying. I barely heard him. We were passing by the ground floor control room and I saw that Erik was on the monitors. Suddenly, I catapulted myself into the control room, knocking Bobby on his ass.

"I have to see her with him to believe all of this shit," I told Bobby. I pulled up the screen that showed the view of the visitor parking lot. I was just in time. Brent and Dayna were strolling out to his dorky Jag, arm in arm, and she was smiling. My heart sank. _Fuck_.

"Santos, man, I'm sorry." Bobby put an arm around my shoulders and squeezed.

"Don't be," I said. "It's not like it was anything exclusive." I sagged out of the control room and Bobby followed me to the elevators. I half-heartedly pounded on the button and sighed, running my hands through my hair.

"She should have told you," Bobby said. "If that's any kind of comfort to you."

"Yeah, no shit, Sherlock. She should have fucking said something! Like, 'Hey, Lester. I'm engaged, so back the fuck off and leave me alone!' or 'You're hot, but my type leans more towards Jag-driving, sweater-wearing rich blond Abercrombie dudes!"

"Don't hold back," muttered Bobby. We got into the elevator and flew up to the fourth floor.

"Where's Pacheco?" I asked Bobby. "He was up in my apartment earlier, throwing my X-Box controller around and punching my couch pillows."

"Haven't seen him since we left the reception area," Bobby said. He unlocked my door for me and practically hauled me inside. I threw myself facedown onto my bed and didn't bother taking my shoes off.

"You can go now, man. I'm just gonna sleep until next Christmas," I said, my voice muffled in my pillow.

"You gonna be okay?"

"I'll live."

* * *

Since I was supposed to be heading up the security team for the Leiderman Company, I had to be at work by eight o'clock. I got up at seven-thirty. I guzzled a can of Coke to wake me up, took a fast shower, and vowed to not even go as far as to _look_ at Dayna Marrero today.

I was just not in the fucking mood for anyone's shit today, including my own. So when I saw Tank near the elevators, I narrowly resisted the urge to rag on him about his yoga. I didn't succeed.

"Lula know you're doing that yoga shit?" I asked, smirking. I turned around to face the elevators and felt the cold steel barrel of Tank's Sig P229 pressed against the side of my neck.

"Actually, it's Pilates," he growled. "And if she finds out, I'll make you a vagina out of your own dick."

_Yikes. _"No need to get violent," I said. I dipped away from Tank and his gun and scampered into the opened elevator. Tank followed after reholstering his gun.

"Feeling bitchy this morning, Santos?" Tank asked, as we rode to the second floor.

"I'm not the one who had his gun pressed against somebody's fucking neck." The elevator let us off at two and we headed down the hall to Ranger's conference room. Zero, Manny, Erik, Cal, Binkie, this new guy named Stab (I'm not looking forward to finding out how he got his nickname), Bobby, and Ram were all sitting around in the chairs, waiting for Tank and I to arrive.

"Santos," Ranger barked. "I hope you have something for me."

"Yes, sir," I said, plopping into a leather executive chair near the head of the table. Ranger slid my laptop over to me and I opened it up. I had several files labeled "Leiderman Account" and I opened up the one that had everyone's surveillance and security detail schedule in it. I hit the Slideshow button and the lists appeared on the wall screen behind Ranger.

"Okay," I began. I was interrupted by a soft knock on the conference room door. The door opened slowly and Dayna poked her head into the room.

"Am I late?" she asked Ranger.

"No, we're just getting started," Ranger said. He motioned for her to come inside and she shut the door quietly behind her. She gave a little wave to the guys and Erik pulled up an extra chair for her to sit down with us. "Gentlemen, this is Ms. Marrero. She'll be joining up with you on the Leiderman case in order to provide psychiatric profiling of the suspect."

I groaned inwardly. This was SO not happening.

"Um –

Ranger interrupted me. "Santos, please continue."

"Okay," I said. "Anyways, the Leiderman Law Offices have been getting bomb threats and harassment calls for two weeks now, and they believe they're coming from a former employee named Jamie Hackett. Jamie was hired as a paralegal two years ago and was recently fired for insubordination and for refusing to be involved with the investigation of a mysterious office fire, which occurred when she was the only one on the Leiderman floor. So, naturally they all think it's probably her. She's got a history of bipolar disorder, borderline personality, and pyromania."

"Sounds serious," remarked Stab.

"So the group of lawyers and the rest of the staff decided it would be best to have the building under constant surveillance and screen any visitor coming into the building before, during, and after hours. Their plan is to have cameras set up in all perimeters of the building, several on the Leiderman floor, and a couple out in the parking lot. The only entrance to the building is through the front main door, and some windows on the ground floor on the back of the building. We'll have somebody here at RangeMan watching the cameras, and several people during the day and the night watching the building from nearby, on surveillance. And two of us will be inside screening daily visitors."

"Is that the schedule?" Ram asked.

"Yeah. I want you all to study it good. The Trenton Police haven't been able to track this chick down, and the surveillance will continue until she's found." I enlarged the schedule on the screen so that everyone could see where they'd be. Ranger looked pleased, but a pleased look on Ranger wouldn't seem like anything to a regular person.

I glanced at Dayna and she blushed. I was so pissed at her that I found it difficult to even make eye contact with her. Her hair was back to being wavy, and she had on cute black dress pants, a stretchy red t-shirt, and the white lab coat. I didn't dare look at her feet, secretly glad they were under the table hidden from view. I was sure she had on the orgasm-inducing heels.

"Lester," she called after me. I was stalking towards the control room when I heard her behind me. I kept going and she followed me into the room, letting the door click shut behind her. My skin crawled at the sound of her voice.

"What?" I said through clenched teeth.

"Um, are you okay?" she asked.

"I'm fine, why?"

"You seem a little bit tense."

"Think so?" I sneered. I went into the supply closet and dragged a box of files down from the top shelf.

"Do you want to talk about it?" she pressed.

"Nope." I slammed the file box onto one of the desks and tossed the lid on a chair.

"Okay," she said, resigned. She turned and sashayed out of the control room. I was hoping to the dear sweet Lord that no one told her Erik's birthday party was gonna be at Hell's Ballroom that evening. Several of us had been planning to go, and a night with her at a place like Hell's Ballroom was going to drive me out of my fucking mind, engaged or not. I located several of the files that I needed and returned the box to the closet shelf.

Bobby slammed himself into the control room just as I was shutting the closet door. "You comin' tonight, man? I think we need to get your mind off this shit for awhile."

"I'll go," I replied. "Who the fuck chose Hell's Ballroom? That place is like Temptation City. Bombshell won't even let Manoso go there even if she's with him."

"The birthday boy did," said Bobby.

"Awesome," I muttered. I stalked out of the control room with Bobby on my heels.

"I think Dayna's gonna be there," he informed me.

"Oh, yeah?"

"I overheard Bomber telling her about it, saying she was having Manoso's mother watch Samantha while they went with us."

"Great, could this day get any fucking worse?" I exclaimed. I entered my office and found Dayna fucking Marrero lounging in my desk chair, surfing the Internet on my fucking laptop. There was my answer. Bobby saw how red my face had gotten and beat the hell outta dodge.

"WHAT are you DOING in my OFFICE?" I said to her. She looked startled to see me.

"Oh, sorry," she said, non-apologetically. "I was just checking my emails."

"From BRENT?" I screamed, slamming my office door so that no one entered with guns drawn. Dayna looked like I'd just slapped her in the face.

"How did you –

"Through the _magic _of _sight!_" I replied.

"Oh, yeah? Well who's MONICA?" Dayna screamed back.

"My ex-girlfriend!" I yelled. "My EX!"

"These pictures she sent you obviously aren't from the past," sneered Dayna.

"Are you in my fucking EMAIL?" I couldn't believe her. I stalked up behind her and stared at the screen. Sure enough, she was looking at two extremely suggestive pictures of a short, brown-haired Latina with sparkling eyes and wearing a barely-there bikini. The send date on them was today's date. "FUCK!"

"And I didn't hack into your email," Dayna yelled. "They popped up while I was checking the Leiderman schedule for my NAME!"

"Did you find your NAME?" I asked her murderously.

"Yes. I did," she said coolly.

"Well, you've invaded my privacy enough for one day. Get the hell out of my chair," I demanded roughly. She snottily got up and sashayed towards the door.

"You're scum, Santos."

"And you're engaged. Thanks for the heads-up."

"Sorry you had to find out this way," Dayna said quietly.

"When were you gonna tell me, huh?"

"I don't know."

"Or were you not gonna tell me shit?"

"Whatever. I don't have to explain myself to you." Dayna threw open my door and slammed it behind her. I growled and ran my hands through my hair again. Since when did I let a woman fuck up my perfectly-planned life? Bobby and I were gonna be single forever, until we turned forty. Then we'd secretly hope that Bombshell would be divorced from Manoso by then and flip a coin to see who got to marry her. The rest was fuzzy after that.

"Santos?" I heard Ranger ask. He was standing in my doorway with a confused look on his face.

"Sorry, boss," I said. "Things got a little out of hand with Ms. Marrero."

"I appreciate your honesty," Ranger said. "See you tonight?"

"Yeah," I croaked weakly.

* * *

I stood in front of my bathroom mirror, checking myself out. I had chosen a black long-sleeved ribbed shirt, baggy khaki pants, and black Timbs. I gelled my hair into thick, messy spikes and stuck my earrings in. _Hmmm,_ I thought. _It needs something. _I stood to the side, then to the other, but decided against any further accessories. My only accessory for the night would be a cup of something alcoholic in my hand.

My doorbell rang, and when I answered it, Tank and Lula, Manny and his girlfriend Ana, and Bobby were all standing in the hall. Manny whistled and Lula began to fan herself, Tank giving her a scathing glare.

"Damn, you clean up nice, cabrón!" Manny said, clapping me on the back. I slugged him on the arm and grabbed my keys and cell off the counter. We headed down to my Escalade and Lula and Tank squished in back with Manny and Ana, while Bobby rode shotgun. We pulled out of the RangeMan garage with Jay-Z blasting and got into traffic. Downtown Trenton was a fucking mess at ten o'clock at night.

"So what's this place called?" asked Lula. "White girl and Batman are supposed to be comin', too."

"Hell's Ballroom," Tank said. "I've never been there."

"Me neither," we all said. Just then, a black Range Rover flashed its headlights at us and I knew Ranger was behind my Escalade.

"Bossman's behind us," I told them. I got on my cell to Erik.

"Where are you, man?" I asked him.

"Behind Bossman," he said. "I've got Stab and his girl Reina, Ram, Woody, and Cal and Jovana. Bossman's got Bomber and Ms. Marrero." Jesus, is there anyone left back at RangeMan? I wondered to myself.

"Great," I muttered. I hung up on Erik and swung the Escalade onto Greene Street. Ranger followed, and I assumed Salvatorra was behind him. I led them down a side street and we parked in the parking garage near the Ballroom.

"Couples are two-for-one tonight," Erik informed me as soon as I approached his Expedition. "Tell everybody to buddy up."

I relayed the message to the rest of the group and realized I didn't see Stephanie or Dayna anywhere.

"Where are the girls?" I barked to Ranger.

"We're right here," Steph announced, coming around the side of the Range Rover with Dayna on her heels. Steph was wearing a red dress, and despite her baby weight, looked pretty good. Dayna – holy fuck, Dayna. I can't even find the words to describe the sight before my eyes. If I was a sane man, I'd have that black scrap of nothing off of her before the count of two was up. But, since I've got my pride (seemingly), I went for eating her alive with my eyes.

"Won't Brett be a little jealous?" I asked her darkly. She scowled at me and flipped her long-ass hair over her shoulder, her eyes darkened to midnight blue and sparkling with something that I could only describe as ill-fated lust.

"No. He's not insecure," she said pointedly.

"He should be." I placed my hand possessively at the small of her back and led her up to the doors of Hell's Ballroom so we could get our "couples" discount. Once we were inside, I dropped my hand and turned to face her. "It's such a shame about that dress."

"What about my dress?" she said angrily.

"It'll never get to experience the feel of my bedroom carpet."

Hell's Ballroom was packed and I could instantly see why it was so popular. The cocktail waitresses were dressed in skimpy red bikinis, complete with devil horns, a long devil tail, and thigh-high stiletto boots. Dear God. Yep, this was my hell.

"Santos," I heard Ranger yell over the thump of Daddy Yankee's bass. "Over here." Dayna and I followed him into the club and over to a large area, partitioned off by fuzzy ropes. Large red couches and tables shaped like melting ice cubes were everywhere, and actual fire burned from up in the rafters. I wondered how this place didn't go up in flames every night.

"Can I get you a drink?" a devil-waitress asked me, as soon as I was seated on one of the red couches.

"Double shot of Patron," I immediately told her. I was busting out the big guns tonight. I was gonna get shitfaced and I couldn't care less who drove my Escalade home, as long as I was in it.

"Damn," Cal said. He was to my left and had ordered a martini.

"Martinis are for pussies," I informed him.

"Oh."

I saw a flash of pink out of the corner of my eye and I nearly died when I saw that it was Monica. Shit, what was SHE doing here? I thought. This day kept getting worse and worse. And with my prized tequila on the way, it was sure to get bad fast. I tried keeping my head down so that Monica wouldn't recognize me, but it was too late.

"Lester," she spat. She approached me, wearing a slutty pink tank top and low-rise jeans that looked tighter than possible.

"Monica," I said. "How nice to see you again."

Before I knew what was happening, I was being yanked to the dance floor and Monica had her arms around my waist. "It's weird that you're here," she said.

"Why? Did you expect me to never go out again after we broke up?"

"No. I mean, it's like FATE that we're here together."

"Did you happen to take your crazy pill today? Because you were the one who left me to go fuck Tiny."

"Ugh, I'm done with that perro," she exclaimed. "I sent you some pictures today."

"Did you?" I lied.

"You'll get them when you check your email." Monica now had her hands draped around my neck and I was starting to get very uncomfortable. I knew the guys were watching me and I was _certain _that Little Miss Engaged was, too.

"Look, Monica –

"Shut the fuck up, Lester." With that, Monica yanked my head down to hers and before I knew what was happening, she had her tongue in my mouth and I couldn't stop her. I foolishly let her kiss me for about ten seconds before I pushed away and glanced back at the guys. Several of them had their mouths hanging open in shock, including Bobby and Tank.

Dayna was looking at me differently, though. I'd never forget the hurt on her face or the disgust in her eyes.


	7. Chapter 7

**Sorry for the lack of updating in awhile! I'm taking an advanced psychiatric nursing course and I've been spending a lot of time interviewing my patients at the local mental asylum so my brain cells are a bit scrambled…Jill **

**Disclaimer: I don't own any characters from J.E.'s books, but I do own the nurse Dayna Marrero, Stab (lol), Brent Hannigan, the Merry Men's girlfriends (except Lula) and evil Monica.**

I opened my eyes to bright light shining through my curtains, proclaiming it to be a sunshiney fucking morning. I blinked and tried to get used to the light, but my tongue was fuzzy and sticking to the roof of my mouth. Fuck this, I thought. Tiny gnomes were hacking away at my neurons with microscopic ice picks, so I bagged the open-eyes thing and tried to smush my face back into my pillow to block out the blinding sunlight.

Only…there was something on my pillow now. I squinted through my sandpaper eyelids and discovered that it was dark brown hair. I panicked, thinking I'd gone fucking bald overnight. No, the hair was ten times longer than mine. I reached up and felt my head. I seemed to have all my hair.

"Stop fidgeting," a girl's voice grumbled groggily. "Dammit, Lester!" To my horror, Monica was curled up to my right, on her belly with her hair fanned out over my pillow. She was naked, except for where my top sheet was thrown haphazardly over her ass cheeks, barely covering what God gave her. _Christ_…this was NOT happening. I looked down at my waist, which was covered, but little Lester seemed to need some serious attention at that moment. _Not now,_ I tried to tell him telepathically. I sat up slowly, which was a mistake due to the fact that I was severely hung over, and rubbed my eyes. I glanced over at Monica's smooth, caramel-colored figure sleeping peacefully next to me and wondered how many times we'd fucked last night.

I counted the discarded condoms on the floor next to me. Two so far, but that didn't mean anything because at that moment I vaguely recalled going at it in the bathroom with her before hitting the bed.

I groaned inwardly, silently thanking God that it was Sunday and my day off. I left Monica sleeping in bed and locked myself into the bathroom. I stared at the floor, noticing a third condom. Dammit. Three fucking times with her in one night. That surpassed the record even when we were dating.

I located some Excedrin and took about three in order to squash the fucking pressure cooker that my brain was sitting in. I got the shower going and stepped into heaven when the water temperature was just right.

The doorbell chimed faintly as I was sudsing up my hair. My stomach dropped and I immediately knew that Monica would get up and answer it. I desperately wanted to know who it was but decided against it, realizing that it really didn't matter who it was because all of RangeMan knew who came back to my apartment with me last night. And not one of them had seemed happy about it.

Against my better judgment, I quickly rinsed my hair and turned the water off. I put on a towel and ran out of the bathroom just as Monica was sleepily opening my front door with my bedsheet wrapped around her.

"Um, hi," Monica grumbled to my visitor. I peeked around the corner and, to my absolute terror, Dayna was standing on the other side of my door, holding my iPhone charger and dressed for the gym.

"And you are?" Dayna asked.

"Monica, Lester's girlfriend." Monica gave Dayna a shady look and puffed out her full lips. Dayna spotted me behind Monica, in my towel, and gave me a disgusted look.

"Can you give this to Lester for me?" she spat. "He let me borrow it and I _definitely _no longer need it." Dayna held the USB cord out to Monica and Monica took it from her, nodding.

"Sure," she said.

"And please inform him that he has an appointment in my office tomorrow morning at eight a.m. for his annual physical."

"Huh?" Monica said, confused.

"I'm the nurse practitioner here," Dayna explained. "I work for RangeMan."

"Oh. Okay, I'll let him know." Monica nodded again. Dayna turned on her heel and flounced down the hallway in the direction of the elevators. Monica shut the door and turned to face me.

"_Girlfriend_?" I demanded. I leaned against the side wall and crossed my arms. "Just to let you know, we aren't getting back together."

"Why not?" she exclaimed. "You said so last night."

"I was too drunk to even function last night," I reminded her. "I barely remember anything that happened, let alone anything I may have said!"

"You weren't too drunk to –

"Get dressed, and get out. I have shit to do today. No, we're NOT getting back together. You left me for Tiny a long time ago, and a long time ago I cared. But not anymore. I'm sorry if I told you we'd try this again, but I clearly didn't mean it and I wasn't thinking right." I walked into my bedroom and located Monica's pink tank top and jeans. I handed them to her and she snatched them out of my hands, a murderous look on her face.

"Whatever, Lester," she spat. "This isn't over."

"Oh, believe me. It's over."

Monica slammed herself into the bathroom to change, so I took that opportunity to put on my gym clothes and tidy up my bedroom. I remade the bed with clean sheets, threw away all evidence of my night with Monica, and gave a silent shout-out to the folks at Excedrin for significantly lowering the heat on my pressure-cooking brain.

Monica stomped out of the bathroom and stalked into the kitchen to find her purse. "I'm sure you'll call me later."

"Don't hold your breath," I muttered. She made a face and went to the front door.

"By the way, that chick who was here earlier. The nurse? Who is she to you?" Monica asked quietly.

"Why on earth is that any of your damn concern?"

"For some reason, she didn't look like 'just a coworker' to me. I'm just sayin'. I'm a girl. I sense these things."

"She's my worst fucking nightmare and the best wet dream I've ever had all rolled into one."

* * *

I know this may sound sick, but I was secretly thrilled that it was Dayna who was on the other side of my door when naked Monica answered it. I was still so pissed about her "underground" engagement to Brent. I felt like I'd evened the score, as crazy as that may sound.

Bobby was waiting for me in the hall outside of his apartment door when I exited my place and jogged towards him, ready to slog through yet another workout.

"Cal saved us two treadmills," Bobby informed me.

"Let's roll." I led the way to the elevators and we rode down in silence. The doors opened and we got off on the first floor. We headed straight to the locker room.

"I know that Monica was in your fucking apartment last night," Bobby groaned.

"Yeah. She was," I replied.

"Fuck, man! What about all this shit with Dayna?"

"What shit? She's engaged. I'm moving on from this fucking mess," I lied. "I have to see her for that damn physical tomorrow morning. I plan on being professional."

"The hell you are," sneered Bobby. "Moving on? Are you back with Monica?"

"Hellified no," I muttered. "I told her it wasn't happening."

"Good." Bobby breathed a sigh of relief. "Let's go." He threw open the locker room door and we went inside, grabbing clean towels from the stack that Ella had set out. I spotted Cal jogging on a treadmill to the far right and dragged Bobby toward it. The two treadmills to his right had towels and water bottles decorating the control panels. Bobby took the one immediately to Cal's right, and I went next to Bobby. There was one available to my right, against the wall.

"Thanks for saving these, man," Bobby said to Cal. "I'm surprised everyone's functioning today, what with drinking the entire liquor stock at Hell's Ballroom last night." Mostly everyone who went to the party the night before was struggling to maintain their strength at the gym that morning. I spotted the birthday boy, Erik, in a zombie-like state over by the free weights.

"No problemo," Cal replied. "I'm just warming up before I do my yog – I mean, my steamroom session." I stifled a snicker and flashed back to Cal on his yoga mat, with Tank joining him afterwards for Pilates. I turned away from Bobby and Cal and set my treadmill up to do a five-mile run.

I got a weird tingle in my gut and sure enough, Dayna was climbing aboard the empty treadmill between me and the wall. She was hooked up to her iPod, obviously ignoring me. She began to jog slowly and I could tell she'd already been on the stair stepper because she was flushed and sweaty. I hated that damn stair stepper because it was torture on muscles. I loved it at the same time, because it made her ass look fucking _amazing._

Well if she was gonna ignore me, I was gonna do the same to her. I put on my iPod and started off on my run. After about ten minutes, I'd caught Dayna glancing at me twice, and her cell rang. She slowed down to a walk and took off her iPod to answer it. I turned my iPod's volume down discreetly so I could eavesdrop, but it turned out she decided to talk extra loud anyway (probably for my benefit) to her stupid wedding planner.

"Amy, hi! How are you? Good…no, everything's fine…Brent's headed to Alaska on business, he left this morning…I'm looking forward to meeting with Tony the caterer…oh, Wednesday? It'll have to be after five or so…perfect! I'll see you then." Dayna hung up and removed her iPod all together. She sped back up so that she was running at about the same speed as me and glared at me. I figured that since she was staring, I'd better acknowledge her.

"Wedding plans, huh? Sounds exciting," I said, turning my head to face her.

"Sure," she replied breathlessly. "I'll be sure to give you the name of Tony, my caterer. Just in case Monica wants to use him."

"I'll keep that in mind," I growled. Maybe the acknowledgement wasn't such a hot idea. I turned the volume back up on my iPod and tuned her out, focusing on a strange water spot on the far wall near the mirrors. Not long after that short conversation, she finished her run and disappeared into the women's locker room.

When I'd run five freaking miles and my knees felt collapsible, I slogged off the treadmill and slunk into the locker room to clean up a bit. I splashed cold water on my face and neck. Bobby dragged himself into the room, looking like he'd lost a fight against a hungry jackal.

"I overheard your little convo with Nurse Ratched," he said.

"Oh, yeah?"

"She thinks you're with Monica."

"Good."

"You're sick, man. I think you need help." Bobby helped himself to a clean towel and draped it over his corn rows.

"Your shit is starting to look a little raggedy," I said, lifting the towel and checking out his braids.

"I know, I know." He scooted away from me and inspected his hair in the mirror. "Soon."

When I got back to my apartment I was so dog tired that I absolutely had to take a nap. I shut all the drapes in the bedroom and took a fast shower, deciding to skip clothes and just go with boxers. I flopped into bed and immediately fell into a restless pre-sleep.

I must have tossed and turned for several minutes, not able to stop thinking about my upcoming physical appointment with Dayna, before slipping into a very strange dream…

_A bright light was shining into my face when I woke up from an unconscious slumber. I blinked to try to locate the source of the light, but it was too bright and I had to shut my eyes. Suddenly, the light dimmed significantly and I could then manage to look into it, seeing that it was a large round spotlight suspended from the ceiling on a retractable metal arm. It looked to me like a surgical lamp. _

_Something about it being a surgical lamp had my internal radar humming and I began to panic as I looked around, seeing all kinds of medical equipment surrounding me, hidden in the shadows, looking foreboding and dangerous. I looked to my right, and several bags of clear fluids were hanging above me. Clear tubing hung down from the bags and past where I was laying, to the floor. I looked to my left and saw a breathing machine and mask, for anesthesia, and a wave of fear slid through my stomach. Where the fuck was I? Did I need surgery? Where the hell are the damn surgeons?_

_I tried to move my hand to touch my face but I whimpered in terror as I realized it was tied down to my side. The other one was tied, too, and I noticed my feet were also immobilized. I was able to sit up on my elbows and saw I was naked, except for a small white sheet folded neatly across my middle covering my crotch. I was strapped to a hospital stretcher. I couldn't stop the small scream from escaping as I realized I'd probably be getting whacked soon._

_Holy shit, what the fuck?! I was kidnapped! I couldn't move. I was tied down and whoever the sick fuck was that had managed to drug me, they'd taken my fucking clothes! I struggled against my bindings and tried desperately to see in the dark, looking for the outline of a doorway or another person or God knows what else._

_The room was freezing cold and I began shivering uncontrollably, albeit mostly from fear. Suddenly, the surgical lamp dimmed even more and the room miraculously warmed. I stopped shivering and my ears perked up when I heard high-heeled footsteps faintly from an unknown direction. The footsteps drew closer to me and, to my right, a door opened and someone stepped into the room. The unknown figure was standing in the now-closed doorway, probably staring at me, and I was seconds away from a shit-fit of a panic attack. _

"_Lester," a woman said quietly, letting my name roll seductively off her tongue. I immediately recognized the voice. _

_She came into view and I desperately hoped there was a crash cart in the room, because I was going to need it._

_The death of me was standing at the foot of the stretcher in a sexy pose, her hair tumbling down her back in thick waves, an old-fashioned nurse's cap on her head. She had on a stark white cap-sleeved nurse's uniform that was impossibly small, the top unbuttoned to her belly button and I could see a lacy red pushup bra peeking out through the opening, causing her C-cup breasts to spill out. The skirt portion was so short that lacy red boy-shorts were poking out the bottom of it, exposing her luscious cheeks. On her feet were shiny, red patent-leather Mary Janes, complete with little buckles and four-inch orgasm-inducing heels. Her lipstick was the same color as her face, a retro-ish nude color, and her eyelashes were thick and long and black. _

_I groaned from my captive stretcher and let my head fall back onto the mattress. The sheet that was covering my middle was no longer doing its job to keep me modest. I didn't care. I was so turned on by the sight of her that the fact she was keeping me hostage did nothing to scare me. _

"_What are you fucking doing to me?" I grumbled, my hips twitching involuntarily. She slowly stepped closer to me and looked at me through lust-filled, midnight-blue eyes. _

"_Nothing yet," she informed me, smirking at the sight of my enormous erection. She sashayed to the side of my stretcher and I saw what she had in her hand. A giant fucking syringe filled with clear liquid._

"_What the hell is THAT for?" I exclaimed. _

"_Relax," she said, placing a French-manicured hand on my twitching abs. "This won't hurt a bit." With that, she jammed the syringe into my right hip and I cried out as she injected the liquid into me. She quickly withdrew the syringe and I was writing in pain as she stuck the syringe into a red box. _

"_What the FUCK?" I gasped. _

"_Shhhh, Lester. Just relax." She sauntered over to an overbed table in the darkened corner, giving me an incredible view of her fucking fine ass. Her back was to me as she began writing something down in what I guessed was my "chart"._

"_Why am I tied up?" I demanded. She turned to face me._

"_For my protection and yours," she sneered, smirking again. She went back to her charting and I was no longer as turned on as I was, being that she'd just jammed what was meant to be an intramuscular syringe into my fucking hip bone. The pain of her ruthless injection was beginning to subside and I started to feel a weird relaxation sensation course through my body. _

"_I've injected you with a muscle relaxer," she informed me without turning around. "I assume it's working by now."_

"Yeah," I said weakly. I felt my arms and legs go limp and wondered if the medication would have the same effect on little Lester. She set her pen down and turned to face me as she slowly approached my bed. Little Lester twitched and hardened again, so I assumed that was the answer to my previous question. 

_"What are you going to do?" I asked her, not really caring as long as it involved one or both of us getting off._

"_Such a nosy boy," she chided, tsk-tsking her full, puffy lips. "You ask a lot of questions when you're not in control." _

"_I want to make sure you're not planning on killing me," I grumbled. _

"_Of course not," she gasped, looking taken aback. "Why would I do a thing like that?"_

"_Because…" I glanced around nervously at all of the dangerous-looking equipment._

"_Hmmm, not liking your environment?"_

"Not exactly," I replied. 

"_I'm sorry," she said, not sounding apologetic at all. "I had no idea this wouldn't be your cup of tea." _

"_How am I not in control?" I demanded, pretty much knowing that was a dumb question because I was tied naked to a fucking stretcher._

"_You seem to always have to be in control. I think it's something you absolutely need in your life in order for people to take you seriously." _

"_Hey. I'm a fucking mercenary. People take me seriously." _

"_I'll bet." She hit a button and the stretcher rose up a foot or two so that my face was even with her flat stomach. She sauntered over to a screen lit up with a black background and bright green numbers and lines on it. She took a small clip with a wire attached and slipped it over my finger, and soft steady beeping filled the air. _

"_What the hell? A heart monitor?" I exclaimed. "You ARE gonna kill me!" She shook her head sagely._

"_It's to show you how not-in-control you'll soon be." She adjusted the head of the bed so that I was sitting up a little bit, but still restrained tightly. Without warning, she whipped the neatly-folded sheet off of my lower half and discarded it onto the floor. I was now completely naked before her, tied down, fully hard, and not able to do a fucking thing about it. I groaned and squeezed my eyes shut. I heard her tinkling voice enter my ears with a hint of amusement thrown in there. _

"_Lester," she said. "Open your eyes." I squinted at her and saw that she was staring down at me, grinning seductively. She was standing behind my head and her long hair was brushing my bare shoulders and was giving me goosebumps. She bent down and slowly lowered her face to mine, holding my head with her hands all the while. She touched her lips to mine and they were so soft and fluffy and warm and it absolutely KILLED me that I couldn't grab her or touch her. She gently kissed me, slow and deep, and I kissed her back and the rush I got at the contact was so intense I nearly creamed myself right then and there. I couldn't move and it was frustrating and turned me on more than I could have possibly fucking imagined. I heard my heartbeat quicken significantly and it was then that I realized her dirty trick to make me go out of my mind._

_When she pulled away I moaned at the loss of her lips on mine and I desperately tried to grab her and pull her back to me but my arms were just tied too tightly._

"_No no, Lester," she scolded me gently. I gave up on trying to break loose and growled in supreme frustration. She laughed lightly and stepped out of my view and I cursed Hal for being the cause of this woman coming into my life and driving me insane, in good ways and bad. _

"_I seriously need to come," I told her. "I don't know what the hell you're trying to do to me, but you won. Just let me the fuck out of these restraints, take off your panties, and –_

"_Now, that would be silly as shit," she exclaimed, mimicking what I said to her at my apartment when she wanted to borrow my iPhone USB cable. I groaned again and turned my head away from her. She was seriously fucked up for doing this shit. _

"_You definitely need to – _

"_Lester," she crooned. "You're not the one in control here. I am." She smiled a knee-melting smile at me. _

_If possible, I got even harder when she said that and I decided to just shut the fuck up and let her have her way with me. The more I fought her, the more turned on I became and the more evil she got. I absolutely hated this and loved it at the same time. I was so confused._

_She adjusted the head of the stretcher again so that I was lying flat, staring up at the surgical lamp and the ceiling. She sauntered down to the foot of the bed and I tried to lift my head to see what she was doing but I wasn't able to see. It felt like every nerve ending in my body was on edge and every tiny sensation was hitting me ten fold, because I wasn't able to see or move or touch anything. _

_I focused on the surgical lamp above me and desperately tried to hear what she was doing, but I heard nothing. I was just about to lose it when I felt her silky hair slide up and down my bare legs and I gripped the lowered side rails of the stretcher in anticipation. I had no idea what she was planning to do to me down there, but absolutely nothing could have prepared me for what she actually did do._

_I felt her soft, full lips close around me and my entire body jolted as I screamed. She took me into her hot little mouth and I couldn't help but lift my hips toward her face, but she pinned me down with her hands. I tugged violently at my restraints._

"_Oh my FUCKING God!" I screamed. She swirled her tongue around the tip of me and my hips shot off the stretcher again but this time she didn't try to pin me down. Three seconds later, I was shaking out of control and she withdrew me from her mouth. She did something with her nails along the length of me that sent me over the edge. I gripped the side rails with white knuckles as I screamed her name, exploding from the inside out, shooting off onto her hand and my upper thighs and my belly. _

_My heart rate was tripping on the monitor. It was so fast it seemed like the beeps were running together. My chest was heaving and I was trying to suck in air but it was useless. That was the most intense orgasm I'd ever had in my life and I was fucking tied down all through it. I was vaguely aware of her cleaning me up. She was wiping my belly and my thighs off with a soft towel and I was still hard but she didn't seem to notice._

"_How was that, Lester?" she crooned softly. I couldn't speak yet._

"_Fuck," was all I could muster. She laughed softly. She discarded the towel and hit a button, lowering the bed back down a couple of feet. _

"_Are you enjoying not being in control?" she asked me._

"_Yes," I hissed. _

"_How much?" _

"_More than I thought I would."_

"Good." She began to unbutton her nurse's uniform slowly, and I was fully hard and ready for her again by the time she had the dress removed from her shoulders. She stepped out of the dress and stood before me in the red bra, red lacy panties, red fuck-me heels, and the nurse's cap. I'd never seen anything so fucking sexy in my short, sad life. 

"_Why did you take off your dress?" I asked her, my voice ten times deeper than usual. _

"_I don't need it," she said casually. "Not for this, anyway." She inched the lacy boy shorts down her silky legs so slowly that it was painful to watch her. She gingerly stepped out of them and set them down on a small table before sauntering over to me. I could see her wetness as she approached me, glistening from the tops of her thighs and no doubt soaking her folds. My mouth watered as she climbed onto the stretcher, straddling me and sitting just behind my dick. _

"_Can I touch you now?" I gritted out. _

"_No."_

"_Please?" I whispered. She shook her head and smiled seductively as I tugged at my restraints, feeling more frustrated than I'd ever felt before. She bent down and licked the shell of my ear and then blew on it. _

"_Shut up, Lester." She gently bit my earlobe, sending me nearly out of control, and she placed her hands on my pecs to brace herself. Her hips lifted and she slid the tip of me across her soaked opening, getting me wet with her silky fluids. I jerked my hips upwards involuntarily to try to enter her, but she scooted away with a tsk-tsk and a sexy grin. _

_Her plan was to torture me until I had a stroke, I assumed. Fine with me. She had me writhing out of control at that point, and I didn't care if she let me touch her or not. This was no doubt the hottest thing I'd ever experienced in my life and dammit, I was going to enjoy the fuck outta it. _

_She sank down onto me without warning, sliding me deep inside of her, and we both cried out at the undeniable pleasure of the union. I thrashed against my restraints and she stilled me with a quiet, "Shhhh."_

I settled down long enough to feel how hot and wet she was around me; my dick was twitching and I felt her inner walls pulsate around me. I was able to stare up at her and her eyes were shut, her mouth open slightly, her cheeks flushed. She bent forward again and gently kissed my neck before licking it.

"_This is going to absolutely kill you," she whispered in my ear. I growled and jammed my hips upward into hers and she cried out at the suddenness of my actions. She raised and lowered herself onto me, all the while mumbling to me. I quickly worked myself up again and just as I was about to spill over the edge, she reached down between us and gently pressed down on her clit. I wanted SO BAD to be the one touching her like that. I went crazy, lifting my hips to match her thrusts, and she finally let it go and shattered into pieces. I shot off deep inside of her and gasped my way through it, since I could touch or grab anything. _

"_Lester!" she screamed, as a new set of contractions was sent soaring through her body. She milked every drop of come from me as she squeezed around me until I was empty. She came down from ecstasy when we were both completely satisfied, and bent forward to kiss me before slowly dismounting my body and climbing off the stretcher._

"_Now do you understand why I tied you up?" she asked me, stepping into her panties and locating her nurse's dress. _

_I nodded. "That was fucking HOT." _

"_So how did it feel to not be in control, Santos?"_

I was awoken by my cell phone ringing from the kitchen. I glanced down. My boxers were down around my knees and I'd made a mess out of my sheets. I quickly pulled my boxers up and ran to get my phone from the kitchen.

"Yo," I said.

"Don't forget about your appointment tomorrow with Ms. Marrero," Ranger said to me.

"I doubt I'll forget," I replied.

"Good." Ranger hung up. I retreated back to my bedroom to try to figure out how I was going to get through the fucking physical tomorrow without a repeat performance of the Sheet-Wetter Ballet. I could sprinkle salt-peter into my food starting now and lasting until tomorrow morning. Nah. I didn't want to run the risk of killing little Lester for good. I could ask Bobby for some pictures of his mom and look at them just before my physical. Nah. Bobby's mom should have been in Planet of the Apes. I didn't want to go blind.

I settled on rescheduling my appointment for next January, but realized Ranger might get pissed and send me to Somalia or some place as punishment. There was no way around it. I was going to have to face the music.

**To be continued…how will Lester's physical go? Will it be just like his dream or will it end up being a complete disaster? How about the rest of the guys? Can't wait to find out!**


	8. Chapter 8

**I hope you all are enjoying the story! I've been neglecting my studying because I'm having so much fun writing! Yikes! I'd better get to work later...Jill**

**Caution: huge warning for some serious Santos smut!!!**

**_From Dayna's point of view_**

_Meanwhile, while Lester was having his naughty nightmare…_

I thrashed and kicked, trying to find a comfortable position under the mound of pillows and covers that I called a bed. It was sticky and hot outside, and I was idiotic enough to have left the sliding door to my balcony open. _Not smart, Dayna, _I thought. I got up and slid the door shut, returned to my bedroom, and stripped down to a white baby-tee and white cotton bikini panties. I got back into bed and lay down on my stomach, halfheartedly throwing the comforter over my legs. I was so exhausted from this morning's workout. I knew that if I didn't take a nap, I'd be sorry later. Sighing, I let my eyes flutter shut and slipped into a deep, fitful sleep…

_The smell of fabric softener that was different from mine wafted into my nostrils and I slowly came to, blinking in the dim light. My eyelids felt sticky. I was lying down on something soft and pillowy and my arms were at my sides. I lifted my hand to brush my hair out of my face but when I tried that, my hand wouldn't move. It was tied to the bed frame with a soft, silky tie. _

_I squealed hysterically but no sound came out. I looked down at myself and saw that I was almost completely naked, except for a pair of lacy purple panties. Oh my God! I was kidnapped by an insane rapist and now he had me tied to his freaking bed! I tugged at my restraints and was met with resistance from both my arms AND legs. Holy crap, I thought. I'm not making it out of here alive! I was sweating and squealing in terror when I noticed a cat sitting quietly on the foot of the bed, not far from my right leg. It was glaring at me through lime green cat eyes, tail twitching. Suddenly, the cat jumped away and scampered into the next room. I followed the cat with my eyes and suddenly, it hit me where I was. Shit. _

"_Ms. Marrero," a voice said, confirming my suspicions about my locale. My head fell back against the pillows that I was propped against. _

"_What the hell, Santos?" I said angrily, tugging at my wrist restraints and trying to twist out of the ties. Lester loomed into view at the foot of the bed, his hair slightly damp from an earlier shower, naked to the waist except for a pair of baggy basketball shorts. He was smiling wickedly and in the midst of my frustration, I felt a wave of lust slide down my belly and pool in my groin. _

"_Can't move?" he asked, raising his eyebrows and crossing his massive arms against his chest, giving me a full view of his intoxicating muscles and dangerous-looking tattoos. _

"_Gee, you think?" I pointedly tugged my right wrist in his direction. "Would you mind putting some covers on me?" _

_He shook his head. "No can do. I'm enjoying the view too much." He smirked as his eyes settled on my nipples, eyeing the pink peaks like they looked good enough to lick. _

"_You're sick," I spat. I twisted around, trying to turn over, but only succeeded in wiggling my head off the pillows. _

"_Maybe," he agreed. "But you started this."_

"What are you talking about?" I demanded.

"_This is payback for jamming that syringe into my ass and fucking me senseless while I was helpless and vulnerable." _

"_Oh, THAT," I said. I sighed. "I had a feeling you'd be pissed about that."_

"_Pissed? Oh, no. Pissed isn't the word. Irate, furious, enraged…" _

"_I get the picture!" _

"_Good." Lester unfolded his arms and headed towards the bed, grinning wickedly the whole time. "I'm going to untie your legs. If you kick me, I won't be all that nice to you." _

"_Just untie me," I said. I scrunched up my face. "I won't kick you in the face. I can't promise my foot won't mysteriously connect with your nuts, though." _

_Lester chuckled lightly. "Why hurt the objects of your obsession?" _

"_ExCUSE me? _

"_I'm just saying." He knelt on the floor at the foot of the bed and gently pressed his lips to one of my big toes. Goosebumps traveled the length of my leg and spread up my back, making me shiver. "Cold?" _

_I frowned furiously. "A little." Lester swiftly untied my ankle ties, his warm fingers brushing against the silken skin of my ankles, lingering slightly longer than they had to. _

_When I was loose, I thought seriously about kicking him in the gut but I was in no hurry to find out what he'd do to me if I hurt him._

"_Stop thinking about kicking me," he said, smirking. Did the bastard read my mind? I thought. He loomed over me then, slowly sliding my knees up in the air one by one. He trained his eyes on me the entire time. They were so dark they looked black, fringed by thick black lashes and eyelids heavy with lust and desire. _

_I couldn't move. I couldn't speak. I was absolutely terrified of him. Of his passion, his desire for me, his lust. I was terrified that I'd let him too far into my essence and into my soul. That I'd be swept into the depths of the spell he'd casted on me and it would be too late to turn away. I'd already agreed that there was no going back. _

_I was contemplating the validity of that when I felt his soft, warm lips on the sides of my calves. He placed gentle kisses up and down my lower legs, not going any higher than my knees, and my brain went into sensory overload. I shut my eyes and concentrated on what his beautiful mouth was doing to me. _

"_Lester," I breathed in a whisper. He didn't answer me, only pausing momentarily before continuing his kisses, moving them up to the middle of my thighs. My breath hitched and I felt a flood of dampness swell into my lace panties. I felt his hands slide up the sides of my legs and settle on my bare hips as he kissed and nipped at the tender flesh of my inner thighs. _

"_The plan, Ms. Marrero, is to drive you completely"...kiss…"utterly"…kiss…"unforgettably crazy," he mumbled against my knee, before gently licking the same spot where he spoke. I growled in frustration and tugged at my wrist ties. _

"_It's working," I exclaimed. My voice had gone cat's-tongue rough and I sounded weird. _

"_I'm just getting started." Lester wrapped his arms around each of my thighs and settled himself between my legs. He placed a hot kiss on my belly just above the elastic of my panties and my head fell back against the pillows. I truly wasn't going to get out of this. Not that I necessarily wanted to…_

_Lester proceeded to ever-so-softly run his fingertips underneath the elastic of my panties and snickered lightly when I started to quake under his touch._

"_Settle down," he grumbled. "Mmmm, I fucking LOVE the way you get when you need this." When he said "this", he ran his fingertip down my lace-covered slit, starting at the top and ending near my asshole. I couldn't control the whimper that escaped my throat. _

"_God, I can't take it anymore," I groaned. I had my eyes squeezed shut and my leg muscles clenched in anticipation. I felt him smile against my thigh and he gently bit the tender flesh and I cried out. His warm fingertips slowly made their way to the crotch of my panties and he pushed the wet, ruined lace aside and hissed when he came in contact with my drenched folds. _

"_Shit, you're _soaked_," he gritted out. "Damn, baby." He slipped his fingertips up and down my slit, carefully avoiding the sensitive nub at the top. He let the elastic panties snap back into place and suddenly he was kneeling in front of me, slowly inching the panties off of my hips with steady fingertips. His erection was massive, straining against his basketball shorts, promising feelings of intense pleasure and extreme satisfaction in the very near future. _

_I was so utterly aroused that I felt the tops of my inner thighs become sticky with the want and need for him. Lester whisked my panties the rest of the way off and tossed them over his shoulder. _

"_Guess those are history," he grumbled, smiling a cute, lopsided grin that made my knees buckle. _

"_I've got a few more in different colors," I breathed. _

"_I know." He settled himself between my legs again and caressed my hips with clever fingertips. I felt his mouth on my inner thighs again, this time much closer to ground zero. _

"_Please, Lester," I whimpered, twisting my hips in supreme sexual frustration._

"_Please what?" He licked the spot where my crotch and leg were joined and blew on it, causing me to twitch and moan loudly. _

"_I need you to make me come," I croaked out. _

"_I know you do, baby," he whispered. With that, he closed his warm lips over my clit and I cried out, lifting my hips off the mattress to meet his face. He pinned me down with both hands and withdrew his amazing mouth from me. _

"_Wha…why…why did you –_

"_Because you're not lying still. Do I need to tie your hips down to the bed?" Lester asked me before nipping and licking at my inner thigh. _

"_No!" _

"_Okay, then." Smirking, he lowered his mouth to me once again and this time he flattened his tongue against my clit. I hissed and squeezed my eyes shut, but forced my hips to stay on the mattress. Lester removed his tongue and slowly ran it up and down my slit, seemingly savoring my fluids that were filtering into his amazing mouth. He moaned softly against my wetness as his tongue once again found my sensitive nub, and he centered his actions there. _

_I went absolutely crazy under his touch. I couldn't speak, or think, I could only feel. His soft tongue was creating sensations that I hadn't felt in such a long time. I could sense the familiar heat pouring into my groin, pulling at my inner muscles, and a low fire was burning as he claimed me with his mouth and tongue and lips. I wanted nothing more than to spill over the edge and by the way he was manipulating my throbbing mound, so did he. _

_At last, I could take no more of his torturous actions and I fell apart beneath him, blasting into a million pieces of white hot heat as he drew my orgasm out to eternity, groaning in triumph as I screamed his name and twitched violently beneath his talented mouth. He brought me down from the stars and placed a gentle kiss on the tender flesh that he'd just deliciously assaulted before resting his head on my belly and catching his breath. _

"_Holy shit," Lester panted as he gently kneaded my hips with soft fingertips. I felt wetness from my swollen center trickle down the backs of my thighs and down my rear cheeks, onto the bed sheets. I still wasn't able to talk, but I managed to sigh loudly from my pillowy cocoon and he looked up at me through thick lashes and smiled slowly. "You okay?"_

_I nodded. My face felt hot and flushed and I tugged at my restraints. Lester scooted up so that his hips were between my thighs and he pushed his giant erection into my wet center. _

_I finally found my voice. "I want you to untie me. NOW." _

"_No way, Jose. That was hot." He lowered his face to mine until his lips were a breath away from mine, and I could smell myself on him. _

"_Please?" I whined. Lester shook his head and placed a small kiss on my top lip. _

"_You tasted so fucking good." He kissed me again, this time slipping his tongue into my mouth and I moaned when I tasted him. I absolutely loved that he tasted like me. He braced himself with one forearm on either side of my head and continued to torture my mouth with his until I was whimpering. He rubbed his huge erection on my crotch and groaned when I cradled his hips between my thighs._

"_I want you inside me," I breathed as he gently suckled on my neck, driving me insane. He smiled against my neck. _

"_Patience, patience," he whispered. Lester kissed his way down my neck to my collarbone, sucking hard and leaving maroon bruises in the spots where his lips claimed me to be his. He kissed the valley between my breasts and reached one hand down to cover my left nipple. I gasped at the sensation and thrashed against my restraints. _

"_Lester!" I gasped. I thrust my chest out to fill his hand and he gently pushed me back down onto the mattress. He tugged lightly on my hardened nipple and quickly slid his tongue into my mouth as I groaned loudly. He rolled the nipple between two of his fingers and sucked my bottom lip into his mouth. _

"_How does this feel?" he grumbled against my lips. I could only bite my lip in reply and he answered himself. "Yeah, that feels good, huh." Lester continued his torture on my left nipple as he kissed his way to my earlobe, taking it into his mouth. I cried out and yanked at my restraints again. I was approaching the point of meltdown due to the fact that I couldn't use my hands or arms. He switched sides, creating the same symphony of incredible sensations in my right nipple, whispering into my ear._

"_How bad do you want this?" he asked me. _

"_So fucking bad!" I whimpered, thrusting my hips up to meet his, frustrated because he still had his shorts on and I had no skin to skin contact. He must have felt my impatience because he paused long enough to slide his shorts quickly over his hips and tossed them to the side before settling between my legs again. He was fully hard, pressing against my slick opening but not yet inside. I twitched my hips upwards and he backed away with a lust-filled grin. _

"_Are you frustrated yet?" he grumbled against my lips. I could only nod as he delved his tongue between them, sliding against my own. He kissed me slowly and deeply while he tugged and rubbed my nipple. "Tell me how bad you need me inside you." _

"_So…bad…" I barely breathed out. My eyes fluttered shut and I situated my hips so that his cock bumped against my clit, causing us both to hiss. _

_Lester's control was commendable as he fought the urge to impale me. He buried his face in my neck and continued to torture me as I thrashed and writhed beneath him. _

"_What do you want, baby?" he mumbled against my pulse point. I finally snapped._

"_I want you to FUCK ME!" I screamed at the top of my lungs. "RIGHT NOW!" The moment the words left my lips, he slammed himself into me with lightning speed and both of us screamed at the intense contact. _

"_SHIT!" Lester yelled, his face next to mine, buried in the pillow. I violently tore at my restraints as he pulled himself out of me slowly and rammed back in, the tip of his huge cock nudging my cervix. I was crying out furiously and my center was pulsating around him as he slammed into me, fast and hard. He braced himself on his right arm and located the silky restraint holding my right hand to the bed and tore it easily. He repeated the action to my left hand and we both groaned loudly when my arms were free. _

"_Oh my God," I screamed. "Harder!" My arms went around his neck as I pulled him closer to me and Lester began slamming into me so hard that I inched my way up the bed with each thrust. _

"_Fuck, you feel so damn good!" he grumbled in my ear. My hands tangled in his tousled hair as I pulled his face to mine and slipped my tongue deep into his mouth. He moaned and the sound vibrated throughout my body and my blood was coursing through my veins, thick and slow and sweet. _

_My fingernails involuntarily dug into his back as I felt my toes begin to curl. Lester wrapped one of my legs around his thick, corded middle and he yanked me up off the mattress. He entered me deeply, from a different angle, and instantly hit my g-spot._

_He knew it because he asked me, "That _has_ to feel fucking good." _

"_Yesssss," I hissed, drawing my bottom lip into my mouth and biting hard. Lester began to pound into me then and everything down there was so hypersensitive that I couldn't keep quiet. _

"_Come for me, baby," he grumbled before sucking the lip I'd just bitten into his mouth. He reached between us and used my wetness to slide his finger across my swollen clit, and I immediately came hard and fast, clenching tightly around him and crying out into his shoulder. I whimpered as the contractions subsided and he stilled momentarily inside me. "How was that?" _

"_Holy shit," I breathed. Lester withdrew from me and I laid back down, and he wasted no time gently flipping me onto my belly and pulling me up on all fours. _

"_Is this okay?" he asked, then kissed the back of my shoulder. I nodded, too aroused to question anything. I felt him behind me, and he reached out and slipped his fingers inside me and then ran them over my clit, and I was ready for him. He pushed into me from behind and I arched my back and cried out as he fisted his hand in my hair and pulled gently. _

"_Lester," I gasped. _

"_Dios, you're so tight and wet…" he trailed off, unable to finish. He slammed his hips into mine and I screamed as he penetrated me deeper than ever, pushing directly against my g-spot. He let go of my hair and grabbed my hips, yanking me back to meet his with every thrust. _

"_I'm going to come," I whimpered. _

"_Touch yourself, nena," he mumbled against the back of my neck. I braced myself on my left forearm as my right hand found the spot where our bodies were joined. I fumbled with my clit as one of his hands found my nipple and he pinched roughly. I cried out into the pillow, unable to handle the incredible sensations flowing through my body, and I came violently, pulling Lester with me. He shot off deep inside of my wetness as he screamed my name, clutching my rear cheek with an iron grip, pounding up into me like a man possessed. _

_I squeezed tightly around his dick and another out-of-this-world orgasm wracked my body, stealing my breath from me and tears were streaming down my face. I kept hearing Lester's yells from behind me, English mixed with bursts of Spanish, his voice full of passion and the desperate need for release. _

_He collapsed on top of my back and I could feel his heart beating out of his chest. He rolled off of me and turned me onto my back, and tenderly kissed the tears from my cheeks as he gathered me into his arms. _

"_Payback's a bitch, Ms. Marrero."_

I shook myself awake and my eyelids flew open. My face was on fire and I was grinning like a jack o' lantern, and my hair was matted to my forehead, full of sweat. I was on my back and the covers were kicked off, hanging down the sides of the mattress and flopping over the footboard of my sleigh bed. _Shit, what happened? I must have been dreaming about…wait a minute._ I felt my crotch through my cotton underwear. Completely soaked through. The sheet underneath was soaked. I sat up and looked down. I knew for sure that I hadn't peed the bed. The memory filtered back into my brain. I had the most colossal sleep orgasm in history and I had Mr. Lester Santos to thank for it.

Wait a second. Lester Santos????? Major guilt trip about Brent. Damn, any man that can put a smile on my face that big and cream my panties to the point of a tidal wave in a DREAM _must _be worthy in the sack. I, however, knew firsthand that Santos was an absolute god in bed. I didn't need a dream to prove that.

I had to give him a physical in the morning. Jesus, how in the heck would I manage that? I could have my assistant Bertha do it. I could call him and reschedule it to next February. Or, I could be professional about it and not let anything get in my way. Like a 10.5 inch –

"Dayna?" a voice called from outside my front door. It was Cal, my yoga buddy.

"Coming, Cal!" I yelled back. "Give me two minutes!" I scrambled around my bedroom, changing my panties and pulling on my yoga pants. I grabbed my yoga mat and threw the door open to Cal.

"You look different," he stated as soon as he saw me.

"Yeah? How?"

"Like you had a good dream or something."

I smiled as we headed down the hall. _Well, it definitely wasn't a nightmare, I thought to myself._

**How will Dayna and Lester react during the physicals in the morning? Will the rest of the Merry Men get the same treatment? Lol You'll soon find out! **


	9. Chapter 9

**Thank you to all who have reviewed! Hope you're enjoying your week!**

* * *

"Can I help you, sir?" the young receptionist at the desk asked me as soon as I walked into the 6th floor clinic.

"I have an appointment this morning."

"Name please?"

"Lester Santos."

"Have a seat, Mr. Santos. Bertha will call you through shortly."

"Thanks," I mumbled. I slogged over to the group of chairs along the far wall and plopped down. I'd barely slept at all and spent most of the night thrashing around, worrying about the things that Dayna would probably do to me this morning. I panicked when I thought of her holding my nuts in her hot little hand and asking me to cough. I knew I'd be a goner if I allowed myself to get a hard-on while she inspected little Lester.

_Sports Illustrated_ was lying on the small table in front of me. As keyed up as I was, I found myself flipping through the damn thing and not remembering a single word I'd read. Ranger had informed me that I was to report to his office for a briefing on the Leiderman case immediately following my physical, so going upstairs to take a cold shower afterwards was definitely out of the question.

The door to the inner office opened and an older, heavy-set woman dressed in green scrubs poked her head out and smiled.

"Lester?" she said. I tossed the magazine back onto the table and unfolded myself from the chair.

"How's it going?" I said to her.

"Not too bad," she replied, opening the door wider so I could step through. "I'm Bertha. I'll be getting your vitals and urine sample today." Bertha and I headed down a hallway and stopped in front of a counter that had a scale next to it. She already had what I guessed was my chart ready and jotted a few notes on a piece of lined paper. "Go ahead and step onto the scale."

I was afraid I'd break the damn thing, what with my boots and guns and shit. I waited for Bertha to move the bar over and her eyebrows were wide.

"Um, maybe you should take off your boots and gun," she said to me. I chucked my Timbs and removed the Glock from my waist. Bertha waited patiently while I got back on the scale, and seemed satisfied when the numbers came up. "Much better."

I laced my boots back up and reholstered my gun. I had to take a leak. "Where's the bathroom?" I asked Bertha. She handed me a plastic cup with a lime green lid and pointed to a door to my left.

"I just need to get a urine sample from you," she said. "You can leave it on the counter when you're done."

I carried the world's smallest toilet into the bathroom with me and locked myself in. There was NO WAY I was going to let anyone walk in and catch me peeing in a cup.

When I was done, I carried my piss cup to the counter and Bertha snapped on some gloves to pick it up. She placed it in a clear bag marked Biohazard (what the hell? I wasn't contagious!) and put the bag in a box to send to some lab for analysis.

"Right this way, Lester," she said, ditching her gloves and motioning for me to follow her into an exam room. When we were inside, she opened a cabinet and pulled out a baby blue hospital robe. "Please change into this for the exam. Ms. Marrero will be in shortly." Bertha handed me the robe and smiled.

"Sure," I croaked. When I was alone, I took off all my weapons (believe me, the weight Bertha had taken down for me was far more than my actual one) and put my boots in the corner. I so dreaded this shit. Sighing to myself, I ditched my cargoes and black t-shirt, and, assuming I was supposed to be commando under the robe, threw my boxers and tank top in the pile, too.

I was tying the robe around my waist when someone knocked lightly on the door. I quickly sat down on the examination table.

"Come in," I said weakly. Dayna opened the door and marched in, and I immediately knew I was in trouble. She was wearing a tight navy blue dress, navy blue four-inch stilettos, and her snooty white lab coat. Her hair was in a clip, cascading down her back in thick waves. Her light pink lipstick matched her toenail polish.

"Mr. Santos," she greeted me, appearing businesslike and down-to-business. She shut the door behind her and put my file on the little counter. She sat down on her little round wheely stool and faced the desk, writing a quick note in my file.

"Ms. Marrero," I replied huskily. She picked up on it and turned her head to the side, smirking naughtily. She uncrossed her mile-long legs and slowly rose from her stool, facing me.

"I'm going to have to ask that you untie your robe," she said, raising an eyebrow. Dear sweet Jesus, _no! _I panicked, thinking of excuses on why I couldn't untie my robe.

"Uh, I actually don't know if that's a good idea," I stammered, squeezing my legs together and trying to conjure up suggestive images of Bobby's mother. I wasn't successful.

"Why not?" she countered, coming closer to me. I could smell her intoxicating perfume and I nearly hyperventilated.

"Because…of…the reason!"

"The reason…"

"Yeah, the reason." I nodded sagely.

"Mr. Santos, untie your robe." Dayna smiled and crossed her arms in front of her. I gave a resigned sigh and yanked the robe's tie out of the knot it was in. I let the robe fall open and she raised both eyebrows at the sight she saw underneath.

"Hey, you asked me to," I said to her, when I saw her reaction.

"Yes, well, that's neither here nor there. The problem is, Mr. Santos, that you are acting extremely unprofessional and I will not tolerate such behavior in my clinic." Dayna frowned furiously but gave herself away when her eyes darkened to midnight blue and she flushed considerably.

"Well, I think that since your eyes got darker just now, **YOU **are being inappropriate and **I **won't tolerate such behavior when I'm getting a physical." I snapped my robe shut and retied it forcefully.

"Fair enough." Dayna reached into her jacket pocket and pulled out a small device with a light. "Hold still." She stuck the light into my right ear. I have no idea what she was looking for. I guessed she was trying to see into my fucking brain.

"Um, ow?" I said, trying to duck my head away from her. She yanked my head back and repeated the procedure. When she was done, she looked in my other ear and then tossed the plastic covering.

"Open your mouth," she commanded. She got a gander at the back of my throat. "Say aah." I did as she asked and damn near gagged to death doing it. When she was done looking down into my intestines, she pocketed her torture device and stood in front of me.

"Everything look okay down there?" I grumbled.

"I assume so." Dayna went to the little sink and washed her hands in warm water, drying them with a paper towel. "Lie back on the table."

She approached me and placed her hand on my shoulder, gently urging me to scoot back and lay flat. I gulped and stared up at the stark white ceiling, praying for an early death if she even _dare _put her warm little hands on my naked flesh again.

"What are you gonna do?" I asked quietly. Dayna laughed.

"Just a quick check to make sure nothing's swollen and you have no masses anywhere." She untied my robe slowly and my breathing hastened. She slid it off my shoulders and her cheeks flushed red and her eyes darkened to midnight blue again. I wondered if she could see my heart trying to beat out of my chest.

"Don't want that," I mumbled. Dayna placed her fingertips on my neck and pressed around gently. She worked her way down, pausing at certain places on my chest to feel for whatever she was feeling for. She got to my abdomen and I instinctively twitched my hips off the table when she pressed below my belly button.

"Sorry," she whispered. I was gripping the sides of the table with white knuckles as she continued her torture, and I could feel myself sweating in unusual places. My throat was parched and my eyes were unfocused as her skillful fingers tripped their way down to my hips. She lingered a bit over my groin, pressing a little too softly to actually be able to feel any lumps. Finally, she reluctantly removed her hands from my front and moved to retie my robe.

"Anything out of the ordinary?" I asked her, smirking. Dayna rolled her eyes and retrieved a stethoscope from her coat pocket.

"No. Sit up, please." She helped me to a sitting position and stood behind me, placing the stethoscope on my back. "Deep breaths, Lester."

I deep-breathed until I was lightheaded, and she moved to the front of me and repeated the procedure. She finished listening to my chest and placed the stethoscope on her little desk. She seated herself on her little wheely stool and plopped my file in her lap. I was secretly thrilled that she had forgotten to do the hold-my-nuts-and-tell-me-to-cough thing. My prayers were answered! I was determined to make it through this fucking physical without my self-control faltering.

"Everything seems pretty healthy," Dayna told me. She began documenting things in my chart.

I nodded. "Well, that's a relief."

She wrote for a few more seconds and snapped my chart shut, placing it on her little desk. She got up from her chair and stood in front of me. The naughty look in her eyes told me I was fucking doomed. "Stand up, Santos."

Dear Lord, this was so NOT happening. My heart rate blasted up to a million as I felt my knees go weak. "Sure," I croaked out.

Dayna watched as I stood up in front of the exam table, hard as fucking granite. She grinned and reached out to untie my robe, letting it fall open and exposing my erection to the chilly air. Little Lester twitched in anticipation.

My eyes squeezed shut and I hissed a breath in through clenched teeth as I fought for control of my body, and she stepped so close to me I could smell her coconut shampoo. She slid her left hand slowly inside my robe and placed it on the small of my back. She then quickly pressed herself to my naked body, her legs straddling my right hip with her knees straightened, and I could feel her pressing her hot little coochie against my hard thigh. She leaned into me. Her right hand firmly grabbed my nuts, making me hiss, and she put her mouth to my ear.

"Cough," Dayna whispered huskily.

I couldn't cough. I couldn't speak, or move, or make any kind of acknowledgement to her command. Finally I mustered up a low growl and it turned into a full-on groan as I felt her hot lips on my neck, and she bit down hard and sucked.

"Fuck," I gritted out. My hands found her waist and I clutched the soft skin through her slinky dress. She let go of my nuts and dragged her fingernails down the length of me. I threw my head back and cursed, clutching her hips harder, and she closed her hand around me and I immediately came long and hard, gulping and swallowing and desperately trying not to be too loud. I spilled my heat onto her hand and I felt her smile against my bruised neck.

"Poor baby," she crooned, with exaggerated lamentation. "You needed that." She gave my throbbing neck one last lick and sauntered over to the sink to wash her hands. When she was done, she came back over to me and looked me in the eyes, arms crossed.

"Santos," she began. "There is not one thing wrong with you. In fact, you're healthier than me." Dayna grabbed up my chart and her stethoscope and carried them to the door.

I found my voice. "Great."

"By the way. You didn't happen to have a strange dream yesterday afternoon, did you?" she asked, frowning. My eyes widened.

"Why?" I asked her warily. I tied my robe and eyed her up.

"No reason." She smirked and let herself out of the room, leaving me alone. _Fuck,_ I thought. How did she know?!

I got dressed in my work clothes again, laced up my boots, and strapped on my weapons. I glanced at myself in the mirror. My eyes were still glazed over.

I walked out into the waiting room to find Bobby and Tank sitting in chairs, each reading a magazine. They looked up at me when I approached them, and they both looked shocked.

"What?" I barked.

"Dude…your fly's open." Bobby raised an eyebrow. He took in my disheveled hair, my swollen lips, my bitten and bruised-up neck, and my glazed eyes. Maybe even a little drool was coming out of the side of my mouth.

"My bad," I chuckled.

"Are we going to get physicals like that?" Bobby wanted to know, turning towards the embarrassed receptionist and pointing at me. Just kill me now, I thought miserably.

* * *

I had stopped at a bathroom on my way into Ranger's office, so I knew I didn't look all that bad anymore. I'd be okay if he didn't look at my eaten-up neck.

"Santos," he barked when I came through the door. I took my seat at the conference table and opened my laptop.

"Sir," I replied. "Sorry I'm late."

"Understood," Ranger replied. "Starting tomorrow, the Leiderman account will be in full swing. Last night, a Molotov cocktail was thrown through a second-story window, igniting a restroom. Luckily, the explosion was confined to that room. The unseen suspect was seen driving away in a gray Nissan Altima."

"Damn," I said. "This chick is getting pretty ballsy."

"That's right," Ranger agreed. "Ms. Marrero will be working on the psychological profiling this evening and will have her documents ready by tomorrow morning. Since you're the lead on this case, you'll be working closely with her to nail this pyromaniac."

"Yes, sir," I muttered. I immediately envisioned myself getting fired from RangeMan due to the sexual tension and inappropriate relationship I had with Ms. Dayna Marrero, engaged brat-extraordinaire.

"Your co-leads on this case will be Tank, Brown, Hector, Pacheco, Stab, and Hal. Hal will be back on the job tomorrow, but just for surveillance purposes. Don't give him anything physical to do just yet."

"Okay," I said. "What will I do with Ms. Marrero?" I could think of ten things right off the top of my head that didn't involve RangeMan work.

"Have her go on surveillance with you. See if she can dig up some leads about the suspect."

"Ten-four. How's Samantha?"

"She's eating constantly. Every two hours. Stephanie is having a hard time with that." Ranger smirked. "She says she feels like a 24-hour all-u-can-eat diner."

I laughed. "I'll bet."

"I'm actually looking forward to having another one," Ranger said to me.

"Yeah?"

"Steph says to wait at least six weeks before we try again," laughed Ranger.

"Damn, Bossman. Wanting a shitload of kids," I said incredulously. I couldn't believe it.

"I know. I love married life."

"And I love single life." I snapped my laptop shut and got up to leave. Before I hit the door, though, Ranger called to me.

"Santos. Make sure Ms. Marrero leaves her marks in a place where your uniform can conceal them next time."

I froze. _Shit. _"Come again, Bossman?"

Ranger smirked. "You heard me." I sagged over to his seat at the conference table.

"Please don't fire me, man," I begged quietly.

"Relax. I'm not gonna fire you. You're one of my best friends and best men here at RangeMan. But I will tell you this: You know Benjamin Leiderman, right?" I nodded. "Leiderman's nephew is Brent Hannigan, Ms. Marrero's fiancé. I'm pretty sure I know what's up with the two of you, but it's really none of my business. The Leiderman case is a million-dollar account for RangeMan. If you fuck this up for me, I'm going to fuck YOU up. Got it?"

I was shocked. How did he…? Brown. I was gonna fucking kill him.

I stalked into the control room after I left Ranger and found Erik on the monitors. "Is Brown back on duty yet?" I demanded. He shook his head.

"He called me on my cell two minutes ago, though. He'll be here in about five." Erik frowned. "You look like you wanna kill him, man."

"Thinkin' about it." I plopped down in front of the bank of monitors that showed the sixth floor, where the medical clinic was. The plan was to watch the camera right outside the clinic door and wait for Brown to come out, so I could hack him up in the elevator on his way down to two. I stared at the monitor screen until my eyes grew fuzzy. I looked away and as soon as I looked back to the screen, Brown's corn-rowed head was shown bobbing down the hallway away from the clinic, toward the elevators.

I ran out of the control room and hid behind a fake fichus tree next to the elevators. As soon as Bobby stepped out, I tackled him back into the elevator and jammed my finger on the 'Close Door' button. The doors shut and I slugged him on the arm.

"What the FUCK!" I hissed. "You told Ranger about me and Dayna?"

"No, man! I swear!" Bobby exclaimed, cradling his left shoulder.

"Yeah, right. Did you know that Leiderman's nephew is Hannigan?" I stage-whispered. Bobby's jaw dropped.

"No!"

"Yes! Ranger said that if I fuck things up with either Dayna or this investigation, he'd fuck **me **up!"

"Shit," Bobby breathed. "That's heavy, dude."

"Gee, you're a rocket scientist!" I opened the elevator doors and dragged him out with me onto two. We headed into the control room.

"Need me to go with you to the Leiderman building?" Bobby asked. I was supposed to go over there to set things up with Benjamin Leiderman sometime that afternoon. I nodded.

"Probably be best," I told him. "My brain cells are still fried from this morning."

"Dude, what the hell happened at your appointment, man?" Bobby asked, grinning.

"Definitely some physical examination, that's for damn sure." I yanked open the control room door and headed into the communications bay. I located my two-way and tossed Bobby's to him.

"Yeah, I could tell. She was cool with me, though." Bobby clipped on his two-way and secured his earpiece.

"Did she say anything?"

"About you? Of course not. She was professional as hell."

"Good," I growled. I clipped on my two-way and plugged in the receiver. "I need to talk to Ranger right quick. Meet me down in the garage." I jogged down the hall into Ranger's office.

"Brown and I are going to the Leiderman building to confirm the setup for tomorrow," I informed him. I pointed to the two-way on my belt. "We'll both be in touch."

Ranger nodded. "Do you have the Leiderman folder?"

I shook my head. "You still have it."

Ranger reached into his filing cabinet and handed me a thick blue chart. "It's all here. Don't forget your laptop." I took the folder and started towards the door. "Oh, and Santos. Don't worry, no one ratted you out with Ms. Marrero. I just assumed it was her, since you haven't left the building since Saturday night and the only other women that work here are Ella and my wife."

"You're wrong," I said to him. "Ms. Marrero has a female receptionist and a female medical assistant." I smirked.

"Aged seventeen and sixty-three, Santos." It was Ranger's turn to smirk. "Do the math."

Damn, the guy was good. I stalked down to the elevators and rode to the garage, where Bobby was waiting for me.

"I got the Leiderman folder," I told him. "You got my laptop?" Bobby held it up. I beeped us into my Escalade and Bobby punched up the volume on an old throwback Method Man jam.

"_You're all…I need…to get by…la-daaaah…" _sang Mary J. Blige. And Bobby.

"Brown," I muttered. "Who sings this?"

"Mary J., dude! I can't believe you, dawg!" Bobby looked shocked.

"That's right. Let's keep it that way." I swung my SUV out of the garage and turned into traffic.

* * *

Bobby and I finished up at the Leiderman offices towards the end of the work day. We had a lot to go over with them, and they had a million fucking questions for us, most of which we couldn't answer.

I stalked into Ranger's office with the Leiderman chart and stopped short when I saw Dayna sitting in front of his desk, seated in a guest chair.

"Sorry," I said quickly. I whirled around and Dayna stopped me.

"It's okay, Lester," she said, her hot little hand resting on my forearm. My muscles twitched underneath her touch. Ranger noticed and frowned.

"We're just discussing the Leiderman case," Ranger supplied. "Ms. Marrero's wedding is this Saturday, and she'll be taking a three-day honeymoon vacation starting Saturday night. She won't be back in the building until Thursday of next week."

"I'm going to work on getting the psych profile for the arson suspect this week," Dayna told me. "I'm going on surveillance with you tomorrow."

I wasn't hearing what either of them said about the Leiderman case. All I heard was that Dayna was getting married on Saturday. _Saturday!_

"Oh, good," I exclaimed, forcing a smile. My intestines were splitting open and I suddenly felt nauseous. "I'm looking forward to nabbing that psycho Leiderman-bomber chick."

"Excellent attitude, Santos. You have my full support on this case." Ranger nodded his head in praise.

"Thank you for your help, Mr. Manoso. And I appreciate your understanding with my wedding vacation plans," Dayna spoke up.

"My pleasure, Ms. Marrero. You're dismissed."

Dayna got up from the guest seat and I followed her out the door. We didn't speak until we were well past Ranger's open door.

"So, Saturday?" I gritted out. Dayna nodded.

"I know it's soon, but I'm just looking forward to getting it over with." She led me to the elevators and together we rode up to the 5th floor kitchen. We headed into the kitchen, where Dayna began putting together a turkey sandwich.

"I figured you'd just gotten engaged and still had awhile before you got married," I said. I filled my favorite plastic Taco Bell cup with Coke and began sucking it down.

"I wish," she breathed. She led me to a small table and we sat down, and Dayna immediately began working on her sandwich.

"Not sounding too happy," I noted.

Dayna sighed. "I just got engaged a month before I met you in the ER. Brent is my father's stock broker."

"Really," I stated. I paused my Coke-sipping for a moment.

"Yes. The engagement was set up by Brent's parents and my own. He's twenty-seven, two years older than me. My engagement ring is too big to wear everyday, since I'm a nurse and I have to put on gloves often."

I was shocked. An arranged marriage? Did that still happen these days? Poor unfortunate rich kids. "How long have you even known this guy?" I asked her.

"Truthfully? I met him two weeks before we got engaged. Our parents are convinced we're the perfect match and won't let us settle for anyone else."

"You're kidding me. I can't fucking believe this!"

Dayna scoffed. "You? How about me?"

"So let me get this straight. If you don't marry Brent, what'll happen?" I asked her.

"Mom and dad cut off my trust fund and cease payments on my $100,000 student loan."

"Shit. But you're obviously old enough to support yourself."

"True," she said. "But it's much easier this way." Dayna finished her sandwich and gathered up her napkin and paper plate.

"Do you even love the guy?" I asked her incredulously.

"I barely know him, Lester."

That explained a lot. "Have you even…you know…have you kissed him?"

"On the cheek," Dayna replied. "He claims he's saving himself for our marriage."

"Smart man," I muttered. "So you're okay with living your life married to this guy, whom you barely even know, aren't even attracted to, and have nothing in common with?"

"It's for security, Lester," Dayna said quietly. "You'll never understand."

"You're right," I said angrily. "I won't." I pushed my chair back hard and stalked over to the fridge for a refill on Coke.

"You have no right to get angry," Dayna exclaimed. "You slept with your ex-girlfriend two nights ago!"

"That was one of the biggest mistakes I've ever made," I retorted. "And I'm probably about to make another one. You and I? That's it. No more fucking around. You're getting married on Saturday and I'm not gonna be the guy that screws that up." I slammed the fridge door shut and stalked over to her.

"You know what? Maybe you're right, Santos. From now on, we're strictly business. Got it?" Dayna bargained.

"Yep," I growled in her face. I stalked out of the kitchen and down the hall, leaving Dayna by herself and wondering what in the hell I'd just done.

**To be continued…**


	10. Chapter 10

Part of me felt dead inside when I returned to my office. I slammed my Taco Bell cup so hard onto my desk that Coke splashed out the sides, spreading to soak a shitload of important papers. I didn't give a fuck. I wanted my life back. I wanted to go back in time to the night Hal got shot and take him to Helene Fuld's ER, instead of St. Francis's. I wanted to meet Dayna Marrero all over again and find out she was a lesbian, or a transsexual, or had hepatitis.

The guys were right. I needed some time off. Or at least a reality check. I had let a woman into my head and my heart, and she was fucking them both up little by little and I couldn't help but think that maybe I deserved this somehow.

Gone was the Lester Santos who wanted one-night-stands and "fuck buddies". Gone was the Lester Santos who took a woman out, slept with her, and never called her again, feigning "phone trouble" and "swine flu" when I was unlucky enough to run into them at Shop & Bag or at the club. I was the Joey Tribbiani of Trenton. I was master of my own domain. Guys envied me because I could get just about anything I damn well pleased with just a cute, coy little crooked smile.

This was my punishment. This was my hell. I just knew that Satan was hanging out somewhere, sipping on Cognac, dangling Dayna Marrero in all her naked glory in front of my face and laughing mirthlessly, chanting, "Ha, ha, Santos! This is payback from women all over Jersey for your selfish, male-slut ways!"

The thought wasn't comforting. I had a funny headache and my stomach felt queasy. I flopped into my desk chair and opened my laptop. I Googled 'Stroke at age 28' and wasn't reassured by the articles stating that it really could happen. I shut my laptop and vowed to go get my fucking cholesterol checked. Or a heart scan. At this rate, I figured the old ticker would be the first to fucking go.

I heard a commotion down the hall, coming from the Control room. Ranger was sounding pissed, Bobby was sounding outraged, and Tank was growling for everybody to shut the fuck up. Curiosity killed the cat and I was immediately out of my chair and stalking down the corridor, my hand instinctively on the Glock at my waist.

"Shit, man! Cut that off! My eyes are fucking burning!" Bobby was shouting. I approached the open doorway. Tank, Ranger, and Bobby were all hunched over one of the monitor screens, their backs to me. Bobby had his palms squeezed over his eyes in attempt to block out whatever malicious vision had entered into his eyesight.

"Yo!" I exclaimed, to get their attention. All three of them whirled around and Tank barged over to me before I could see what they were looking at on the screen. He immediately tackled me to the ground and we went down, clawing and swearing until the cold steel barrel of Ranger's Blackhawk .357 became noticeable pressed against my neck.

"Santos," he said quietly. I froze and Tank scrambled off of me. He hauled his 6'4" frame up off the ground and adjusted his cargoes and t-shirt. I was still being held at gunpoint by a pissed-off Cuban, so I settled for nearly shitting in MY cargoes instead.

"What the fuck is all this about?" I asked darkly. My chest was heaving with each breath and sweat had begun to drip from my forehead onto my t-shirt sleeve. I looked from Bobby to Tank, and finally to Ranger as they glared down at me, lying on the floor like a helpless assault victim.

"Get up off the floor, turn around, and go back into your office. That's a direct order." Ranger cocked the pistol still pressed into my carotid artery.

"The fuck I will," I spat. "You're holding me at gunpoint, Manoso. Tell me what the hell this is all about first!"

"You might as well tell him, Bossman," Bobby spoke up angrily. "He'll find out soon enough. He's the primary on the Leiderman account."

Ranger studied me for a long time from under his thick, dark lashes. As usual, his face bore little to no emotion. He slowly pulled his gun from my neck and reholstered it, and I breathed out a huge breath. "Aiight. Brown, get the door." Bobby dashed over to the Control room door and slammed it shut before helping me to my feet. "Santos, follow me." Ranger turned and headed over to the monitor they had been staring at, Tank and Bobby and I on his heels. Ranger stopped at the bank of monitors that showed various parts of the Leiderman building.

"I don't think this is a good idea, Bossman," Tank spoke up quietly. "It don't feel right."

"Shut the fuck up, man," Bobby hissed, elbowing Tank in the ribs. Tank oofed.

"Damn, man! Who's idea was it to hire this Allen Iverson-lookin' fool?" Tank growled to no one in particular, rubbing his aching chest.

Ranger ignored them. "Santos, come here." Ranger motioned for me to join him in crowding around the monitor that was showing Benjamin Leiderman's interior office. I watched as Ranger rewound the surveillance footage and hit 'play'. Tank and Bobby squeezed in close and we all settled in to view what would quickly become absolute horror, in my eyes.

The hidden surveillance camera was facing Benjamin Leiderman's massive oak desk and equally-massive leather desk chair. Someone was seated in the desk chair, and it wasn't Benjamin Leiderman. I was vaguely aware of my mouth dropping open at that point, because Brent Hannigan was in the chair and he was tapping away at a computer that looked like it could easily contact the Hubble Telescope.

"Shit, I can't watch," Bobby groaned. He slunk away from the monitor and buried his head in his hands near the door to the Control room.

"What the hell is Hannigan doing in Leiderman's office? I thought he was a stockbroker." I asked Ranger. He silently nodded his head and motioned for me to continue to watch the screen. A dark-haired woman entered the room and approached Brent, and they appeared to be having words.

"Couldn't get sound on this," Tank spoke up. "Can't say I'm all that sorry. Watch." The dark-haired woman stepped closer to Brent and wrapped her arms around his neck from behind, and he nuzzled into her. Seconds later, he was out of the chair and had the woman backed into a credenza, kissing her for all she was worth. My gut twisted and I felt sweat prickle on my back. I wanted to crack my fist into Hannigan's face and shake him until his neck snapped.

"This is footage from last night," Ranger told me. "Apparently, Hannigan didn't go to Alaska like he'd told Ms. Marrero. She told me that he'd left yesterday morning for Juneau, on business. Roughly two hours after this footage was recorded, the Molotov cocktail was smashed into that Leiderman building restroom."

My voice returned. "You think Hannigan's our pyromaniac?" I asked. "And who's the chick in the surveillance video?"

"We can't make a positive I.D. She vaguely matches the description of Jamie Hackett, but since her face is…occupied…in this video, it'll be hard to pinpoint an exact match. And we have no proof that Hannigan has been making bomb threats and starting fires." Ranger frowned and we all turned back towards the monitor. Hannigan and his little Lolita had disappeared from the camera frame, probably to another area of the office where they could strip down and do the nasty, right in ol' Benny Leiderman's office. Hannigan's own fucking uncle.

"Here's what probably went down. Obviously we know that Hannigan's been lying to Ms. Marrero, and I'm willing to bet millions that she doesn't know what's up. He somehow got into the Leiderman building late last night with this chick, who may or may not be Jamie Hackett, the arsonist. The cameras never picked them up as they got into the building. In the tape, he appeared to be trying to access some kind of computer records, and we don't know if he was successful because the camera continued to roll in Leiderman's office and we never saw them come back into view. Then, two hours after this point in the video, the cocktail was thrown through that second-floor bathroom." Tank crossed his arms in front of him.

"Hannigan's uncle is Ben Leiderman. Maybe he has a key or an access code to the building. Maybe he's stealing computer records," Bobby countered.

"Or money," I supplied. "He could be hacking into the business accounts and embezzling funds into his own bank records. Stockbroking might just be his legit line of work."

"Leiderman surprisingly hasn't reported monetary theft, but he did mention that he's missing several boxes of outdated bank records," Ranger said. "Glad to see that your brain hasn't completely been turned to mush by Ms. Marrero, Santos."

"Believe me, it's getting there," I muttered.

"So if they're skimming from the Leiderman company, it's going unnoticed. But that doesn't explain why they'd want to blow the building to fucking pieces," Bobby said. "This is some weird-ass shit."

A revelation suddenly came to me. "Maybe Hannigan and Hackett **are** working together, and that's her on the tape. Hannigan is hacking into the Leiderman business accounts and transferring money into HIS accounts, somewhere internationally. Like the Cayman Islands, or some shit. So Jamie Hackett goes in there, because she wants a piece of the million-dollar pie, and makes a bunch of bomb threats to deter anyone from finding out about Hannigan's skimming. Meanwhile, they're slowly sneaking bank documents out of the building and going completely undetected from RangeMan security cameras. When they've got all the cash they can get their hands on, they'll blow the fuck out of the Leiderman building to destroy the evidence." I grinned, pleased with myself.

"Santos, you blow me away," Ranger said, chuckling and shaking his head.

"He's onto something, Bossman. There may be a tie-in. We still haven't identified the woman from the surveillance footage," Tank piped in. "The fact that Hannigan has Ms. Marrero fooled is a red flag with me. Right off the bat, we know that he's up to something because he lied to her face. Second of all, he's just been videotaped cheating on her." For some reason, three heads turned towards me. Tank continued. "Third, this chick might be the arsonist and they might be in this together. Just something to think about."

"Isn't this funny? This whole time you've been doing Ms. Marrero, and her fiancé's literally been dipping in the company ink with a possible pyromaniac former employee!" Bobby exclaimed.

"Not a comforting thought, Brown," I growled. Bobby took one look at my face and quickly sobered. I'm sure he wasn't in the mood to have his jaw wired shut by an oral surgeon this evening. "Why didn't anyone want me to see this tape?"

"We figured you'd go apeshit," Tank supplied. "You won't, will you?"

"No. Maybe. Well, let's just say I'm not promising anything."

"I want Hannigan on ice by tomorrow night," Ranger demanded to us. "If we can get his female friend, too, all the better. Detain them for questioning. I'll call Juniak first thing in the morning to let TPD know about the situation. Until then, you all have some serious work to do." Ranger stalked out of the Control room and headed down the hall, followed by Tank.

"Shit," I breathed out, running my hands through my tousled spikes. This was too much to take in. I was on information overload. "Dayna needs to know about this. She's marrying the guy on Saturday."

"Then I guess you have a wedding to stop, Santos." Bobby clapped a hand on my back. Great.

* * *

I was _not _about to waltz right up to Dayna and announce that her "fiancé" had other plans for his week, which may or may not include a visit to the federal penitentiary and/or a sleazy motel with his "accomplice." Instead, I planned to go a different route. I was going to try to wait until she figured all of this out on her own, but that may backfire because it might turn out to be too late, and she'd walk down the aisle with her father to The Wedding March, and at the altar there'd be a lunatic in a tux waiting to whisk her off into a life of miserable "security."

The thought was too much to bear. I exited the Control room and slogged back to my office, wishing the Liquor Fairies had visited while I was gone and found it necessary to leave me a bottle of Stoli with_ "Lester Santos"_ fucking engraved on it. No such luck. I did, however, find that my Coke was still somewhat cold and I took a large gulp. It needed something. Rum, maybe.

"Santos," a voice said from my doorway. Cal, Erik, and Hector had come to call. I nodded my head in greeting and they trooped inside, standing in a group around me and my desk.

"'Sup?" I said.

"Ms. Marrero'll be out of the building for the rest of the afternoon," Erik told me. "Thought you'd wanna know."

"And why would I wanna know that, Salvatorra?" I asked him. I plopped into my desk chair, steepled my fingers in front of my mouth, and raised an eyebrow.

"Well, Pacheco said –

"Dude, your neck is all scabbed up," Cal said, coming around behind my desk and yanking the collar of my t-shirt down to expose the bite mark from you-know-who. Erik and Hector gasped.

"Damn!" Hector said, in his thick Mexican accent. "She's like a fucking chupacabra!"

Erik whistled. "Who did that, Santos?"

"Who do you think?" Hector cried. "The mesmerizing enfermera, esé."

This was a whole new level of mortification for me. I wasn't sure what was up their sleeves besides a shitload of tattoos, but I suspected they knew all about Dayna and I.

"So, you found out about everything," I said to Hector, more of a statement than a question. "Why am I not surprised?"

"Yeah, we kinda figured out that you had something going with her. Ranger briefed us just now about what's been happening on the Leiderman case. So the cheater becomes the cheatee." Cal smirked.

"Why is she marrying this guy again?" Erik asked, amazed.

"She claims it's for security. Something about her parents, and some kind of loan payment…I really don't fucking know." I sighed, not really fully believing that any of this bullshit was taking place. I wanted to crawl under my desk and melt into the brown industrial-grade carpet.

I tried to replay the events of the last two weeks in my mind. Dayna Marrero comes to work at RangeMan and takes my heart (and my nuts, literally) in her pretty little hands with an iron grip. She and I have amazing, mind-blowing sex down in the fucking gun range and the very same night, I find out she's engaged to some dopey stockbroker in a sweater vest with a green Jag. Meanwhile, some crazy pyromaniac chick is threatening to burn down a law office building, which happens to be owned by Dayna's fiance's uncle, Ben Leiderman. Ranger assigns me as the primary on the Leiderman case, and in the meantime, Dayna plans her wedding to the green Jag nerd and proceeds to stomp on my already-weakened heart with her four-inch fuck-me heels. She then continues to torment me sexually until I decide that I'm head-over-heels in love with her, before we both swear off any further physical contact for good because she's getting married and I don't want to come between her and her stupid fiancé, since she's already seemed to have made the decision to continue on with her wedding plans despite the fact that she's clearly not in love with the guy.

A stick has now been thrown in the spokes of the plan wagon's wheel, and Brent Hannigan (the "celibate" stockbroker) just got caught playing fucking tonsil hockey with possibly our arson suspect. Not only has he been placed at the scene of the crime after hours, but his unknown female accomplice just might be the chick we've been keeping under surveillance. And the guys have left it up to ME to tell Dayna that her scumbag boyfriend's not only a two-timer, but a possible suspect knee-deep in major criminal activity.

Yeah, right.

"Earth to Santos," Cal said. He slugged me lightly in the shoulder. I turned to Erik.

"So why did Ms. Marrero leave the building?" I asked him.

"For an appointment. Check-up at the dentist. I let her through the gate down in the garage earlier."

"Oh." I glanced at my wall clock. It was nearly six o'clock, and I seriously needed a fucking drink or a blunt or a couple Xanax. My nerves were shot, and I was worried about the stroke again. Sure, none of the three aforementioned "remedies" would stave off a stroke, but I was a desperate man and I had to at least try one of them. I decided on beer, reminding myself that there were a few bottles of Corona in my fridge at home.

"Keep your head up, Santos," Cal said. He and Hector and I all did the complicated guy handshake and Erik slapped me on the back as they headed out of my office.

"Tomorrow night," Hector said, pointing at me as he backed out the door. "It's on and poppin'."

* * *

I'm not sure what Hector was smoking, but I was almost certain that there would be no activity at the Leiderman building on a Tuesday evening. The activity between Hannigan and his little friend had occured on a Sunday, a weekend. Pulling a stunt like that on a Tuesday night could get them caught, especially since the building's cleaning crew usually stayed around until ten or so. Still, Ranger was intent on having us do a stakeout, anyway.

On my way to the elevators, I heard a baby's loud squawk from inside Ranger's office. I took a detour and found Stephanie sitting in front of Ranger's desk, in a guest chair, holding Samantha over her shoulder.

"Lester!" Steph said to me, grinning broadly. I plopped into the guest chair next to her and she passed Samantha to me. "How's everything?"

I kissed Sam's fuzzy little baby head and cradled her to my chest. I felt like King Kong, and she was my tiny prisoner amidst the muscle of my arms. Ranger sat in his Dr. Evil chair across from us, a hint of a smile on his face.

"Could be better," I said. "The Leiderman case has me in some kind of warped mind state."

"Dayna's fiancé was recorded on camera in the Leiderman building last night, along with what appeared to be a female accomplice. And lover," Ranger told Steph. "He's now suspect in the bomb threats. We're keeping both him and Jamie Hackett on surveillance."

Steph's eyes widened. "Does Dayna know?"

"No, and these guys want me to tell her." I frowned, motioning toward Ranger.

"You have to, Les," Steph said. "Isn't her wedding on Saturday? She definitely should know who she's marrying."

"Hey, Hannigan's not the only cheater here," Ranger pointed out. "Check out Santos's neck!"

I reluctantly yanked my collar down so Steph could see my "wounds." She gasped.

"Lester!"

"Yeah, yeah. Save it for Maury," I said.

"So she's been cheating, too," Steph concluded. "Hunh. You're both made for each other."

I kissed Samantha one last time and handed her back to Stephanie. I stood up and pointed my finger in Steph's face. "I resent that, Plum. I can guaran-fucking-tee you both that she won't walk down the aisle to Hannigan on Saturday. Sit back, watch, and learn from the Master." I turned on my boot heel and stalked out of Ranger's office.

"Les! You know it's not Plum anymore, right?" Steph yelled after me. Ranger was laughing his ass off. Fuck him.

* * *

I stripped down when I was finally locked safely in my apartment, away from the demons of RangeMan Enterprises. I walked naked over to my bed and flopped face down onto the mattress, intent on resting for a minute before I showered. Several minutes passed, and I soon realized that if I didn't get into the bathroom soon, I'd be asleep.

I got the shower going, nice and steamy, and stood under the blistering spray for what seemed like hours. It felt _so good_. Speaking of things that felt _so good,_ my gutter-mind wandered about until my thoughts zeroed in on one thing only: the soft, lean hips and rounded ass cheeks of my one and only true demise.

My knees weakened. I had to get control or I'd fall over in the shower and crack my head open, forcing the guys to bust in and rescue me and slap one of those Medical Alert buttons on my ass. I could just picture it: "Help! I've fallen, and I can't get up!" I shook my head sadly.

Unfortunately, the image of Dayna standing in the shower with me was now burned into my corneas, and I could no longer think of anything else. Her lips were on my pulse point and my hands slid across her wet, slick abdomen, traveling down to her folds and parting her –

Shit, my knees just seriously buckled. Get it together, Santos. I lathered up a loofah with a manly-scented shower gel and began to work it over myself, conjuring up images of Bobby's mother and of Steph giving birth. Yeah. Those were working! Excellent.

I managed to finish washing myself without turning my shower into a Slip-N-Slide. Only one thing left to wash, and I was doing so good that I figured I didn't have to worry about it. Sike…

Dayna's long hair was wet and dripping, falling over her shoulders and down her back in thick chunks. Water droplets were stuck to her mile-long eyelashes and beads of water were dripping down the valley in between her perfect breasts, traveling down her flat stomach and into her navel. Dear sweet Jesus. I knelt before her and flicked my tongue into her belly button and she let out a soft moan, her head falling back against the marble shower wall. She spread her legs for me and I kissed my way down her hips to her inner thighs, listening to her whimpers get louder until I flattened my tongue against her center. I felt her hands slither into my hair as she held my face to her. I gently suckled her and prodded her with my tongue until she was gasping for air and my moans mixed with hers –

Fuck. I looked down, and sure enough, my fucking hand was wrapped around my dick and I'd somehow shot off all over myself. Well, lookie there. Great job, Santos. Shaking my head in disbelief, I lathered up my loofah again and got to work, being sure to avoid Little Lester like the plague.

When I was clean (my body, certainly not my mind), I dried off and threw on a pair of clean boxers and basketball shorts. Now that Dayna and I had made a "just business" verbal contract, I was now, once again, the five-year-old that wanted what he couldn't have. True, I was the one who initiated this silliness, but only because I consider myself to be a halfway decent guy. As much as I wanted to crush Hannigan's dick in a vise and book him for arson, I was torn between wanting Dayna to find out about him for herself and me being the one who sticks it to her.

My cell rang, and it was my sister Damaris. "Lester!" she wailed. "I got my license suspended again!"

Dear God, I could have sworn I felt a vein pop in my fucking head. Yep, tonight was the night. Bring on the strokes and heart attacks and aneurysms and blood clots. I briefly considered calling 911 ahead of time and having them hang out in the RangeMan lobby, ready to rush me into St. Francis's for emergency brain and/or heart surgery.

"I hope you're kidding, Mari," I said through clenched teeth. Suddenly, she stopped wailing and started fucking cracking up.

"You're right, that WAS fun!" Damaris said to someone else, who I assumed was sitting next to her. The line went dead. Bitch.

I went straight to the fridge, yanked out a Corona, nearly broke the bottle trying to unscrew the cap, and began guzzling it down. I drank two-thirds of the bottle before slamming it down onto my granite kitchen countertop. I immediately felt better, considering I hadn't eaten anything for dinner yet. I went back to the fridge and pulled out a container of Chinese food to heat up.

I was finishing off pork lo mein when somebody banged on my door. I got up and looked out the peephole. Bobby was standing in the hall, nonchalantly waiting for me to answer his knock. I threw the door open and stood there, staring at him for a second.

"You gonna let me in, dawg?" he asked me, chuckling.

"Thinking about it," I mumbled. I stepped aside and he walked through. I slammed the door behind him and he toed off his boots before heading into the living room and plopping on my leather couch.

"I see you're not in the mood for people to fuck with you tonight," Bobby pointed out. He remoted on my plasma and settled down to watch a Celtics game. I went back to the kitchen and cleaned up the leftover Chinese food, then joined him in the living room. I was just about to sit down when my doorbell rang. I jogged over to the door and glanced out the peephole, expecting Manny or Tank or one of the guys. Wrong. It was Dayna.

"Shit," I breathed. I glanced myself over to make sure I had shorts on before tumbling the locks and throwing the door open. "Hey."

"Hey," she replied. She looked into my apartment and saw Bobby on the couch. "Am I interrupting?" I noticed she had a small Bath and Body Works handbag with her, and she was wearing black yoga pants, a tight pink baby tee, and matching pink and black Shoxx. Her hair was pulled back and I physically had to force my hand to stay at my side, in order to keep from yanking her ponytail back and sucking on her throat like it was my lifeline. So much for the whole "not having erotic thoughts about another man's woman" thing. Even if the man had an older lover and was involved in serious criminal mischief.

"No, you're not," I told her. "But hey. Weddings can't plan themselves. Don't you have chair covers to pick out?"

Dayna made a face at me as she walked past me, into my apartment. "Save the sarcasm, Santos. I brought you something."

I shut my door and walked over to her. "Oooh. Something to remember you by?"

"Well, I guess you could say that." Dayna smiled at a frozen Bobby before heading into my darkened bedroom with the handbag. I followed her and watched as she pulled a small jar candle out of the bag and set it on my nightstand before lighting it.

"Um, whatcha doin' there, Spanky?" I asked her, completely baffled as to why she was lighting a candle in my bedroom. My arms were crossed and her features softened in the dim candlelight.

"These candles were on sale at the mall. I stopped by there on my way back from the dentist. I needed something at Macy's for the wedding, and I saw a sale over at that store that always smells really good inside. So I got a bunch of them, and I thought you and the other guys might like one. Besides, the one I've lit is called _Caribbean Salsa._ It sounded like a scent that someone like you might enjoy."

Holy shit. I seriously didn't know what to say, but I thought of seventeen – no, wait, eighteen - things I'd have liked to do to her at that moment.

"Thanks."

"You're welcome." Dayna set the bag down on my nightstand and stared up at me, as if taunting me to kiss her.

"Yep. Friend. Totally." I took her face in my hands and drew it up to mine before pressing my lips against hers. She sighed against my mouth and I felt her hands slide around my bare waist and up my back. Damn, she tasted _so good._ I deepened the kiss and when her tongue touched mine, I felt that all-too familiar flutter in my lower abdomen. This time, I couldn't ignore it. Fuck the verbal "just business" contract.

Just as I was about to haul her down onto my bed and yell at Bobby to get the fuck out, Dayna pulled away from me and gave me a tiny but sad smile.

"Lester, you have to let this go," she said quietly. "I'm so sorry. But I now realize that it's for the best."

"I don't want to let it go," I whispered, taking her hand and pressing her knuckles to my lips. I wanted the whole thing with Brent the Bastard to come spilling out, and then she'd know he was crazy and then she'd realize what a mistake she would have been making by marrying the idiot.

For some reason, I couldn't go through with it. It wasn't the right time. When _would_ the right time be, though, Santos? When she saw him in handcuffs, getting interrogated by Ranger and me? Or how about when she was walking down the aisle and the Feds showed up and busted into her wedding? Somehow, I wasn't sure that knowing he was a creep would even deter her from still saying her vows. She seemed intent on marrying this guy, and my heart splintered inside my fucking chest for the ninetieth time since I'd met her.

"I know you don't," Dayna whispered back.

I sighed and removed her hand from my lips. "Fine."

"I'd better go," she said. She picked up her little handbag and I followed her out of my room. She waved to Bobby and headed into the foyer to the front door. I stood against the door jamb as she stepped into the hall.

"By the way, _buddy_," I said smiling, enjoying one last bit of mindless sexual banter with her. "Your ass looks amazing in those pants." I crossed my arms and continued to grin at her. To my surprise, Dayna returned my smile.

"Thanks, _pal._ Right back atcha." With a wink and a heart-stopping grin, Dayna Marrero sauntered down the hall and disappeared behind a tall fake palm tree. I sagged inside my apartment and clutched my aching chest.

"Bobby, call 911. I'm almost **certain** that I'm having a fucking heart attack."

**TBC…**


	11. Chapter 11

Ranger called me into his office early the next morning, after I'd gotten a cup of Coke from the kitchen. He sat me down and pretty much asked me to do the unthinkable.

"You want me to take Dayna on surveillance tonight?" I squeaked, nearly tipping my plastic cup onto his desk as I leaned over it.

"Santos," Ranger barked. "It's not a big deal. Let her get accustomed to accompanying you and the guys on stakeouts."

"She's a nurse! What's she gonna do, patch up the bad guys after we fry them with Tasers?"

"Watch the attitude," he said darkly, pointing in my face. "She's a vital component to the RangeMan team. She'll be providing psychiatric profiling on our suspects."

"What the fuck is psychiatric profiling?"

"It's exactly what it sounds like. I'm sure you'll be intrigued with what I have to say next, so pay attention. I want you to get her a gun, set her up with communications equipment, and brief her on the situation at hand. If you don't want to tell her about Hannigan just yet, then keep that part out of it for now."

"But I've already got my team together," I said.

"It'll be a cold day in hell when I let you and Brown do surveillance together again."

"Damn."

"You've got Manny and Hal covering the back entrance to the Leiderman building?" Ranger asked me. "And Hector and Erik on the side?" I nodded. "Good. I want all of you out of here by 2100 hours. Don't come back here until you have somebody in cuffs."

"Yes, sir."

"And Santos. If you screw this up, I'm going to test out my new shredder with the half-naked pictures of Michelle Rodriguez I found in your top desk drawer." Ranger smirked. I did a slow burn in the guest chair, covering my face with my hands.

"Christ," I hissed. "I need those to _survive_, man!"

Ranger laughed mirthlessly. "Yeah. I know."

* * *

"Do you have the psychiatric profile on Jamie Hackett?" I asked Dayna. We were seated at Ranger's conference table. She nodded and passed me a small red folder.

"Everything's in there," Dayna replied. "We shouldn't have a problem."

"Good."

Despite my predictions that there would be no activity tonight, Ranger was still having us stake out the Leiderman building to try and scrounge up some leads. Manny and Hal were sitting across from us. They would be stationed behind the Leiderman building, in an alley, watching the rear entrance. Hector and Erik would be parked at Downtown Jewelers next door. Dayna and I were supposed to be parked at the office building across the street, checking out the front double doors.

"Listen up," Ranger said, entering the conference room. "I've just received word that our suspects rented a black Hummer H3 at Avis thirty minutes ago."

"Suspects? Plural?" Dayna whispered to me. Holy mother of _God_, I had to think fast.

"Um, yeah. The woman we believe to be Jamie Hackett has been working with a male accomplice, and we haven't been able to get a positive ID on him." I wasn't sure how long I could keep this whole thing from her. What if Hannigan showed up on the stakeout and Dayna found out he was behind the Leiderman bomb threats? Well, that would save ME from having to tell her.

"Oh. Sneaky bitch," Dayna muttered.

I raised my eyebrows. "Damn right."

"Anyway," Ranger continued. "Keep your eyes open for the black Hummer in the general vicinity of the Leiderman building. Tank and I will be here in Control, listening to the wires. Under no circumstances are you to turn the wires off."

"Should we take the RangeMan SUVs?" Manny asked Ranger. "I'm thinking that they've caught onto our surveillance vehicles by now."

"Fine. Take your Mercedes. Erik, take the M3. Ms. Marrero, I want you and Santos in your car."

"Sure," Dayna replied. She turned to me and flashed me a friendly smile. Only, it didn't feel all that friendly. It felt…sexy. No, it was just me and my fucking Puerto Rican hormones overreacting again. I'd been doing good with her all day. She wasn't poisonously rude to me. Casual chit-chat in the kitchen. Hi's and bye's near the elevators. Business-related conversations and talk of the Leiderman account were all we chatted about. Even the usual lust-filled glances and naughty innuendos were gone. Truthfully, I missed the hell out of all of it. I felt as though I'd already lost her to crazy Brent, and her wedding wasn't even for four more days.

"You're all dismissed," Ranger said. We all stood up and crowded out of Ranger's conference room. I led the way down the hall to the Control center.

"Aiight, let's roll," Manny exclaimed, clapping Hal on the back. "Good to have you back, man."

"Just don't get me shot again, bro," Hal mumbled. Manny chuckled as he threw open the Control center door.

"You never want to have fun, man," Manny said.

"If you call "fun" being in the hospital for two days with a fucking gunshot wound," Hal muttered. They disappeared into the communications room to start putting equipment together. Dayna, dressed in black cargoes, a stretchy black lacy tank top, and black boots, plopped herself onto a small rolling desk chair and crossed her legs.

"This should be interesting," she spoke up. I leaned against the desk, facing her.

"What, the actual stakeout? Or being confined in a car with you for seven hours?"

"Both." She smirked. I found another small rolling task chair and sat down backwards on it, still facing her, while we waited for Manny to get all the communications equipment together.

"I suppose if I asked you to carry a gun you'd cold cock me with it, right?"

"Lester. You know I'm a firm believer that guns kill people."

"No, people kill people. And I can think of one weapon that you're damned sure not afraid of. But unfortunately, the only one I can provide you with tonight is a Glock." God help me, I seriously couldn't keep myself from saying that to her.

"Bastard." Dayna smiled and blushed. "I'm sure you're armed enough for the both of us."

"You know it."

Just then, Hal approached us with a jumble of wires and radios and other various pieces of surveillance equipment.

"Did you find my two-way?" I asked him, when he handed everything to me.

"It's on top. There's an extra one, too." Hal punched me lightly on the shoulder and walked back to where Manny was standing. I put everything behind me on the desk and selected the extra two-way to show Dayna how to use it.

"Aiight," I said to her. I rolled my chair closer to her so that our knees were touching. "This is a two-way." I held up the small radio for her to see. "You could just use it like a Nextel and hit the speaker button, but most of the conversations that go on between RangeMan employees are classified and private. That's what this wire is for." I plugged the wire into the two-way's jack and held up the tiny receiver that was attached to the wire. "This goes in your ear. You hear everyone's conversations through this, whether you want to or not. There's a mic in this coil. You hit the "talk" button on the two-way in order to communicate. Let go of it to listen."

Dayna seemed to take my communications lesson seriously. "Wow. That's a lot to take in."

"You can handle it." I handed her the two-way and watched as she reached behind her to clip it on her waistband. A few seconds passed, and she grew fussy and frustrated when the clip wouldn't work.

"I can't get this," she exclaimed. She handed the two-way back to me and turned around in her seat. "Do it for me, Lester."

Sighing, I grabbed the back of her belt and stuck the two-way radio there. Her cargoes dipped low enough for me to see the beginning of her ass crack, and she had a tiny black Japanese character tattooed onto her right rear hip. I wanted to ask her about it, but when I opened my mouth to speak, only a low growl came out. Her skin was smooth and bronze where the tank top and the cargoes didn't meet. Christ.

I untwisted the wire and scooted closer to her before handing her the receiver. When she had it comfortably situated, I switched on the two-way transmitter that was attached to her hip and adjusted the volume.

"What do I do when I'm wired?" Dayna asked me, turning her head to the side towards me for a second before facing forward again.

"Nothing. Listen to what everyone's saying. Just do what I do: if it sounds important, pay attention. Respond if necessary. Is the volume too loud?" I asked her. Dayna shook her head. "Tell me what you're hearing."

"Static."

I turned the frequency tuning knob slightly. "How about now? What do you hear?"

"Static and voices." This from the psychiatric expert.

I turned the tuning knob slightly again. "Are the sounds any clearer?" She listened for a second.

"Yeah. That's a lot better."

"Good," I replied.

"Turn it up a little," Dayna said to me. I adjusted the volume again and she turned to face forward in her seat, frowning in concentration to sort through the barrage of voices that had just blasted into her train of thought. I wired myself and adjusted the volume of my receiver.

"I think I hear Tank," Dayna remarked, pressing on her receiver to hear better. "No, wait. That was Bobby."

"Bobby? What the hell is he doing on this frequency? He's supposed to be –

"Santos!" Ranger barked, making both Dayna and I nearly jump out of our seats. I looked around and spotted Ranger and Tank in the window to the main Control station, seated behind a huge bank of monitors. Ranger didn't look happy.

"Copy that," I said on a sigh. He scared the fuck out of us.

"Mic check," I heard Manny announce. He and Hal were out in the hall with Erik and Hector, waiting for Dayna and me. A round of 'checks' and 'heres' filled the airwaves.

"Check," Dayna and I said.

"Ms. Marrero, do you have the psychiatric profile on Jamie Hackett?" Ranger asked Dayna.

"Yeah, I'm holding it."

"Good. Let me know when you have something. Everybody get moving."

"Yes, sir." Dayna waved the folder in my face before rising from her perch on the desk chair.

"Santos! This is YOUR operation. Don't fuck it up." Thanks a lot, Ranger. No pressure at all.

* * *

I'd never been inside an Infiniti G-35 before, but it was an orgasmic experience all the same. Especially since Dayna let me drive.

"You serious?" I asked her, when we were down in the underground garage. She handed me the keys and grinned.

"Yep." She swung her heart-stopping hips as she sashayed to the passenger's side and opened the door. "Coming?"

I found my voice and desperately wished I'd worn baggier pants, but if my cargoes were any baggier I could have fit Cal in there with me. God, help me. Seven hours with her in an impossibly small vehicle, with butter-soft leather reclining seats, and limo-tinted windows. Luck wasn't being kind to me tonight.

Hector and Erik had already left, roaring out of the garage in the M3 on two wheels. Hal and Manny were stuffed into Manny's black Mercedes, all wired up and ready to go. They pulled up behind the Infiniti in the garage. I went over and leaned on Manny's open driver's side window, and we did the complicated guy handshake thing.

"Sup, playa?" Manny asked me, grinning like a fool. "That's a nice ride." He gestured towards the G-35.

"Yeah, it is." I followed his gaze and saw Dayna watching us, standing with her right hip against the shiny black rear quarter panel, arms crossed, hair flowing down her back and around her shoulders.

"Oh, you thought I meant the car?" Manny asked. Hal's eyes widened and he grinned in disbelief.

"Fuck you, Pacheco," I growled. I pushed off of Manny's window frame and stalked over to the driver's side of the Infiniti as he roared out of the garage. "Get in," I said to her. Dayna immediately opened the passenger door and seated herself inside. I slid into the driver's seat and as soon as I saw the custom dash and gauges, the $2,500 stereo, the short throw shifter, the bright blue cabin lighting, and DVD/navi flat-screen, I nearly creamed my cargoes.

"Shit," I hissed. Dayna and I shut ourselves inside the car and I took a minute to regroup. Running my hands along the smooth black dash, it was then that I realized cars really could make a man have an orgasm.

"Are you done caressing my vehicle?" Dayna asked impatiently. "Start the engine, Santos."

"Yours or the car's?" I asked her. She slugged me on the shoulder. I was secretly thrilled that our seductive innuendo was back, but I wasn't sure how long it would last before she cut me off again.

"The car's," she replied darkly. Laughing, I plugged the key into the ignition and the elegant machine came to life, the turbo exhaust echoing off the cement garage walls and rumbling deep in my gut. I had a hard-on the size of Manhattan over this fucking car. And the sexy-beyond-belief woman sprawled out next to me.

"I absolutely canNOT believe that you drive around in this everyday. How are you not aroused by this vehicle?" I asked her incredulously.

"Well, if you must know, I had to keep an extra change of panties in the center console for a whole week after I got it." She smirked at me. I nearly died.

"You're killing me, Marrero." I groaned, shifted into reverse, and zoomed out of the parking garage.

We made it to the streets of downtown Trenton. Traffic was bumper to bumper as I downshifted at a stoplight. Dayna was staring out her window at the passing nightlife.

"I find it hard to believe that an ex-employee would want to bomb an entire building," she countered. I shifted my eyes to look at her, not turning my head. _Not to mention your crazy fiancé, too, _I thought.

"People can do some whack shit when they're motivated." I couldn't get the thought of Brent with that other woman out of my head. I was dying to tell her, but once again I talked myself out of it. I was such a fucking pussy.

Suddenly, I just HAD to see what this car could do. I revved the engine, and as soon as the light turned green, I weaved through traffic and hit the ramp to Route 1 North.

"Um, Lester?" Dayna asked me. "I thought the Leiderman –

She was interrupted by the Infiniti's engine opening up, the turbo screaming, and the car rocketed forward so fast that the force knocked us back in our seats. I had the fucking gas pedal to the floor, double-clutching, flying through the gears. The Infiniti was absolutely hauling ass. Sixty, seventy, eighty, ninety…I glanced at Dayna.

"LESTER!" she screamed. She was grabbing the sides of the leather seats with white knuckles. Her eyes were darkened to midnight blue and her lips were parted in surprise. Sweat had formed a thin sheen on her entire body. Her nipples were hard through her tank top.

I immediately took the next exit and squealed to a stop in the parking lot directly across the street from the Leiderman building. I was breathing heavy and shaking like a leaf, hard as granite in my cargoes. I was sweaty from the adrenaline rush. I ripped my black t-shirt over my head, leaving me in a tight black tank top.

"Damn, I'll bet serious cash that you've never done that before in your own damn car." I tossed my t-shirt into the backseat and ran my hands through my hair. Dayna's eyes flashed fire and I knew she was pissed.

"I can't tell you how many times I've seen people all bashed up in my ER because they'd been driving like that," she said through clenched teeth. I slowly leaned next to her and put my lips directly next to her ear. I watched her eyelids flutter shut as I gently closed my thumb and forefinger around her left nipple and gave it a slight tug.

"You're not gonna tell me that turned you the fuck on?" I grumbled. She let loose a long sigh and chewed on her bottom lip. "Don't lie to me, Marrero." I gently bit her earlobe.

"Fine," she gritted out. "You win."

Satisfied at the rise I got out of her and chuckling quietly, I hauled myself back into my seat and adjusted myself in my cargoes. "Hmmm. I'm sorry, I seemed to have forgotten our "just business" pact a second ago. My apologies."

"Santos, I swear –

"Just stop." I reached into the backseat to get our surveillance equipment. I hauled a black Nike gym bag into my lap and began digging around.

Manny's voice filtered into my ear. "Santos, are you in position?"

"Ten-four," I replied. "We're across the street from the front of the building. We can see the doors perfectly from here."

"Roger that."

I took Jamie Hackett's psychiatric profile from the dashboard and opened it, locating a mugshot of our little pyromaniac. She was a small woman, older, with dark brown hair…holy fuck. The arsonist Jamie Hackett WAS the woman in the surveillance tape. I nearly died when I put two and two together. My theory from yesterday was most likely correct, but we needed more hard evidence.

"What?" Dayna asked me, eyeing me warily. I must have looked insane with delight.

"Nothing," I said nonchalantly. I tossed the folder back onto the dashboard and hit the power button on the DVD player. I waited a few seconds and a movie began to play.

"_The Notebook?"_ I exclaimed to Dayna. She frowned.

"So?"

"Come on. This is NOT the type of car that you watch _The Notebook _in. In this car, you're supposed to watch things like _Romeo Must Die_, or _Fighting, _or even _The Hangover. _But not _The Notebook_!" I was appalled. I snapped off the TV.

"Hey. The car title says Dayna Christin Marrero, not Lester Alejandro Santos. Hence, the car is _mine._ In your _"Lescalade",_ YOU can watch your martial arts crap." Dayna switched the movie back on.

"No puedo creer que estoy viendo esta mierda," I muttered as I let my head fall back against the headrest. Dayna paused the movie and turned to me, a weird look on her face.

"What do you mean, you can't believe you're watching this shit?" she demanded. I stopped cold. _Fuck._

"Is that what you think I said?"

"No. It's what I _know_ you said," Dayna replied angrily.

"Took Spanish in high school, did we?"

"Yes, as a matter of fact. But that's not how I know."

"How DO you know?" I asked her, raising my eyebrows.

"I grew up in Miami. Believe me, Santos. I know Spanish."

No shit. "Seriously?" Well, slap my ass and call me Sally Sweet. "Hunh. There is SO much I don't know about you."

"I know," Dayna replied, smirking.

"So, you're from Miami. What, are you part Cuban or something?" I turned my head to look at her.

"Let me guess. I suppose you'll have some snotty comment about that." Dayna made a face.

"Nope. I just didn't think you had it in you."

"My last name didn't give it away?" Dayna asked incredulously. Fuck. I'd never even thought of that.

"It's the hair and the eyes," I said defensively, turning my head back to stare straight ahead at the damn Leiderman doors.

"Hmmm…not good enough, Santos."

"Can you speak Spanish?" I asked her.

"Only if you want me to."

"I'll let you know when I want you to." I eyed her without turning my head. My lips tugged upwards in the promise of a smile and I saw her blush in the street light. She was so fucking beautiful, with her hair tumbling around her shoulders and falling to her waist.

I settled back in my seat and adjusted my two-way receiver. The night was hot and sticky, and I was glad I'd 86ed my t-shirt. "So how far do these seats go back?" I hit a button and my driver's seat began to recline.

"Why?" Dayna asked warily. She tossed the DVD remote aside and sat up, facing me.

I had my phone out and I was scrolling through RangeMan emails. I didn't look up. "Just curious."

"Bullshit." Dayna was smiling knowingly, and I thought I detected a hint of teasing in her voice. "Let's play a little game, Lester."

I was immediately intrigued. I turned to face her and tossed my phone in the backseat after putting it on vibrate. Just in case her "little game" wasn't one we'd want to be interrupted from playing. "Game…"

"Yes, game. It's called…Truth or Dare."

Holy fuck. Dayna _Christin_ Marrero wanted to play Truth or Dare with me on a stakeout, in an orgasmic vehicle with reclining seats and the fucking RangeMan Control center chatting in our ears. I bit my lip to keep from screaming obscenities directed toward Ricardo Carlos Manoso and his no-turning-off-the-wire rule.

"Do you think that's such a good idea?" I asked. I didn't recognize my voice again. I figured I'd better see an ENT if this hoarseness and rough, scratchy talk didn't improve. I suggested it would improve if Dayna Marrero moved to Uganda.

"Why not? We're just friends, right?" she said. "Co-workers?" The shit-eating grin on her face suggested otherwise.

"Sure. Yeah. Right." I cleared my throat and bit my lip. "Friends to the end, man."

"Good. You go first." Dayna's eyes were sparkling.

"Um…truth."

"Okay. Is it true that you once did Ranger's sister?"

Jesus. She was pulling shit out from under a rock that I thought I'd buried. "Where did you hear that?" I laughed nervously.

"Tank."

"Oh. Then yes, it's true. No point in lying." Dayna cracked up. "Look, it was awhile ago. Ranger tells me she thinks I'm scum, but sometimes I get a text from her asking me to come over."

"Geez," Dayna said. "You seriously leave that much of an impact on a woman, huh?"

"You tell me."

Dayna smiled a sultry smile and blushed. "Okay, my turn. I choose Truth."

"Aiight. Is it true that you once did it on the hood of this car with your ex at a street race?"

Dayna's jaw dropped and she blushed furiously. "How did you…"

"Oh, yeah. Cal talks, too!"

"I'll kill him. And it wasn't a street race. It was a Nismo performance event out in Cali." Dayna adjusted her earpiece and reached to her side to turn down the volume. "You're next. And I'm choosing for you. Dare!"

Shit. "It can't be anything against RangeMan company policy," I told her. "Ranger'll be here so quick…"

"Relax," Dayna told me. "I dare you to switch off your two-way."

"Fuck no! Control knows if one of us goes offline."

"That's why it's a dare, Santos." Dayna smiled evilly. "For a full minute."

"What will I get for doing this?" Besides fired.

"Let's just say, that for each truth or dare that you complete successfully, from now on, my seat will recline just a little bit more." Her eyes sparkled.

Jesus Christ on a bicycle. My fucking voice deepened again. "And what will happen when it goes all the way back?" I grumbled.

"I'll be taking a short nap," Dayna said, punching me lightly in the arm. "You keep an eye out for the crazy arsonist bitch."

This girl was a total tease. My chances of making it through this stakeout were slim to none, because my fucking cock was going to explode and I'd bleed to death all over her black leather seats.

"Hunh."

"I'm kidding, Lester." Dayna rolled her eyes.

"What happened to the business-only thing?" I asked her.

"According to RangeMan's company policy handbook, it IS legal to perform a body cavity search on a fellow employee if they're suspected of smuggling drugs or weapons onto RangeMan Enterprises property. And you know what? I think I might have a bag of weed in my vagina." Dayna shifted around in her seat and wiggled her hips like Shakira.

"Where do you come up with this shit?" I growled. "Are you high?"

"You don't want to get in here," she replied, tapping her head. "Sometimes I have to give _myself _therapy."

The only words I wanted to hear coming out of her mouth from that point on were my name, how much she liked what I was doing to her, and whether or not she wanted it harder. I absolutely did NOT care if she protested because there was no way in hell she'd ever stop me. I was sick of her innuendo and foolish teases. She was manipulative and sly, creative and cruel. She was intelligent and beautiful and if Brent the Cheating Bastard wants to marry her he'll have to run me over in a fucking garbage truck first. Dayna Marrero had me wrapped around her little finger and I was enjoying and yet dreading every second of it.

"This is what's gonna go down," I said to her, getting up close and personal. "You're going to recline that fucking seat." I pointed to her passenger's seat. "I'm going to come over there and –

"What about our agreement, Santos?" Dayna said, her eyebrows raised in mock amusement. "I told you last night that it was for the better if we didn't mess around anymore." I knew she was baiting me, to see if I'd actually follow through with her request to keep things rated G between us. At this point, I didn't care.

"I don't give a flying FUCK about any kind of an agreement. You're the one who started all of this shit tonight, with your sexy car and your lacy little tank top, which by the way looks A-mazing on you, and your ridiculous game…"

"ME? I started all of this? You and your speeding on the highway, driving like Vin Diesel! And since we're on the subject of _tank tops_, you're one to talk!" Dayna exclaimed.

"Okay, fine. It's your turn to pick, and I'm choosing for you. Dare. And your dare is to recline that fucking seat before I throw an abdominal aortic aneurysm due to the fucking hard-on I've had since the night Hal got shot and you came waltzing into my life!"

Dayna's eyes became pools of midnight blue. She unclenched her jaw before speaking. "Yours is already reclined. And I guess it's only fair that you reimburse me for the countless pairs of panties you've caused me to ruin since that night."

I growled deep in my chest at the thought. "That won't be a problem. I'll take you to Victoria's Secret or wherever the fuck you wanna go tomorrow. But you won't get out of having me approve them before I buy them."

"Deal." We shook on it. Without letting go of her hand, I yanked her across the center console so she was sprawled across my lap and drew her face to mine so that I could kiss her.

I had my tongue deep in her mouth and my fingers around her bare nipple when the two-ways crackled to life and I heard Hal say my name.

"Santos," he exclaimed.

"What, Dominguez?" I'd reluctantly taken my hand out of Dayna's tank top to answer him, and she protested a little. I silenced her with a little thwack on the ass and she sat up and began placing hot, wet kisses down my neck. Sweet Lord, I was losing it. Fast.

"There's a black Hummer H3 pulling up at the Leiderman building. Do you see it from where you are?"

"Uhhhhhhh," I groaned, as Dayna's warm, soft lips found my pulse point. I accidentally had my hand on 'talk' and she must have heard me through her earpiece, because she chuckled against my neck. Hal had heard it, too.

"You okay, man?"

"Oh. Yeah. Sorry about that. Um, I see a black Hummer pulling up in front of the doors. Want me to check it out?"

"Use your night vision binoculars."

"Ten-four." I pulled Dayna's face back to mine and began to kiss her again, slow and deep, turning us both on to the point of insanity. She ground her warm crotch against my huge erection and made these little sighs that drove me wild.

"Hal could write you up for insubordination, you know," she mumbled against my lips, smiling.

"Fuck that," I replied. "Hal's not my boss." Dayna was now straddling my waist in the driver's side of the Infiniti, her front pressed against mine. Her lips were back on my neck and I was fast approaching meltdown. I wanted to be inside of her more than I wanted to take my next breath, and Hal was making me look at some vehicle for him.

"Santos!" Ranger this time. Since Dayna and I were both so wrapped up in each other, we jumped a mile. She growled in frustration and climbed off of me, back to her passenger's seat.

"Yo," I said to Ranger.

"We're waiting for you to give us a positive ID of the driver of the Hummer." Fuck. I located my night vision binoculars in the backseat and trained them on the SUV. Brent Hannigan was opening the driver's side door and he stepped out, wearing a black t-shirt and dark denim jeans. His dorky blond hair was blowing in the night breeze as he headed around to the trunk of the truck and hauled the hatch open.

"Is that her?" Dayna hissed, grabbing the night vision binoculars from my hands and training them on Brent. Fuck. Her mouth dropped open as she stared through the binoculars at her fiancé in disbelief. "Ohmigod!"

**TBC…what will Dayna do if and when she finds out Brent might be behind the Leiderman bombing? More to come soon! **


	12. Chapter 12

**I'm here to tell you that this story is ALMOST FINISHED! Only a couple more chapters to go! Thank you to all who have read and the faithful few who have reviewed. I'd love more feedback from you all, but please be gentle! I am still fairly new at this. :-) **

**Rated M for some minor smutty content.**

"Is that _Brent_?" Dayna exclaimed, still peering through the night vision binoculars. Brent appeared to be alone tonight. "It can't be. Brent's still in Alaska. It has to be Brian."

"Who the hell is Brian?" I asked her, whipping the binoculars out of her hands and nearly knocking my fucking eyes out with them as I put them up to my face.

"Brent's twin brother. I've never met him before."

"So Hannigan has a twin brother," I stated. My radar began humming.

"That's what he tells me. Then again, I don't know a whole lot about Brent." Dayna shrugged.

Something was off. I needed to talk to Ranger, but I didn't want Dayna to catch my conversation with him. I handed the binoculars back to her and dug my cell out from the backseat.

"I have to make a call. Stay here. Whatever you do, don't get out of the car unless it's on fire or something." Dayna nodded. I slipped out of the driver's side door and shut it quietly before scrunching myself down. I practically crawled behind the Infiniti and squished into a squatting position. I dialed up Ranger.

"Yo."

"Listen to this shit," I hissed to him. "Dayna just informed me that Hannigan has a twin brother named Brian. The driver of the Hummer is either Brian or Brent Hannigan, and Dayna just got on the binoculars and made a positive ID. I'm telling you, man. Some weird shit's going down."

"I'm having Tank run a search on Brian Hannigan right now. I'm going to call Avis and find out the name of the person who rented the Hummer. Is Dayna near you?" Ranger asked me.

"No. She's in the car. I'm squished down behind it, outside."

"Wait for my call. Don't go back into the car until you hear from me." The line went dead. Fuck. Seventeen hours seemed to pass before my phone buzzed again.

"No one named Brian Hannigan in Trenton," Ranger reported. "There are a few in Jersey, but none that match with Brent Hannigan's birth date. Funny thing, though. The Avis manager told me that the Hummer was rented out to a Benjamin Leiderman." Damn, this shit was getting weirder and weirder.

"Ten-four." I hung up and slunk back into the car. Dayna had her cell out and was furiously trying to reach Brent.

"His phone's off," she said, frowning.

"Keep trying him," I said. I got on the two-way. "Positive ID on suspect Hannigan."

"Want me to move in?" Manny asked me. I had my eyes trained on Hannigan as I watched him unlock the front doors to the Leiderman building with some sort of key fob device.

"Not yet. I'll let you know when to make a move."

"What's this about Brian being a suspect?" Dayna asked me. I sighed, thinking I might as well tell her what was going on. She'd hear about it from somebody eventually.

"The guys and I have video surveillance from Sunday evening, in Ben Leiderman's office. A guy who looked exactly like Brent was at Leiderman's desk working on the computer. He had a lady with him who matched the description of the arsonist Jamie Hackett. They're obviously involved with each other, because they started making out after awhile. We had put two-and-two together and figured Brent was up to no good."

Dayna's jaw dropped. _"WHAT?!"_ She put her hand to her mouth. "You mean to tell me that Brent's twin brother could be involved in the bomb scares?"

"It looks that way. Either that, or Brian doesn't know his girlfriend Jamie Hackett's a nutcase."

"I can't believe it! Well, maybe I can. It sort of makes sense. Brent told me that Brian works for Benjamin Leiderman, in some kind of accounts receivable department."

"Here's another problem: outdated bank records have been steadily disappearing from Leiderman's filing closets." I picked at a piece of lint on my black cargoes and flicked it onto the floor of the car. I dug out the night vision binoculars and watched as Brian Hannigan disappeared into the main atrium of the building, gently shutting the door behind him.

"Lester, this is getting weird. I wish Brent would pick up his phone. I think something's wrong."

"Yeah. My Spidey sense is telling me that something's fucked up, too." I put the binoculars onto the dashboard and stretched, reaching my arms into the backseat and enjoying the way Dayna's eyes flashed fire as she watched my tank top ride up to uncover my flexing abs. I got a flashback of her gently biting the skin just below my belly button and coughed to cover up my groan.

"Something wrong?" she asked me.

"Nope. Not a thing." Call me crazy, but at that moment I was more interested in figuring out the whole Hannigan mess than kissing her senseless until her eyes were permanently glazed over. I got on the two-way. I decided that now would be a good time to move in on Hannigan.

"Dominguez," I barked to Hal. "I want you, Hector, and Salvatorra to keep an eye on things from where you are. Manny and I are gonna remove Hannigan from the building and question him right here in the parking lot. Pacheco. Get out of the car and meet me near the bushes in front of the front doors when I tell you."

"Ten-four," came the disembodied reply. I turned to Dayna and hauled her to me by the strap of her tank top.

"I want you to stay here and keep watch for me. Don't get out of this car, or I'll have to cuff you to the seat," I growled to her. She grinned seductively at me and raised her eyebrows as she reached behind her to test the door handle.

"Oops," she gasped. "I'm almost opening the door!"

"Don't even go there, Marrero. I'll have you cuffed to that seat so fast…so help me." The grin she gave me changed from seductive to belligerent in a heartbeat, and my dick instantly hardened.

Fuck that. First things first. Hannigan could have blown the damn building to pieces for all I gave a shit, because her pants were coming off NOW. I hauled Dayna into my lap and pushed my tongue deep between her lips, eliciting a long groan out of her chest. I ripped down the zipper of her cargoes and shoved her underwear aside before sinking two of my fingers into her throbbing wetness.

"Guess we can count this pair ruined," I grumbled against her neck, as I felt the lacy fabric tear away from her hips. Dayna was facing me with her legs straddling my lap. "God, I can't fucking get enough of you," I growled to her. She took my earlobe into her mouth and bit down, causing me to growl. I twisted my fingers inside of her, grazing her g-spot.

"Ohmigod," gasped Dayna. Her body twitched underneath me and she dug her fingers into my bare shoulders.

"Is that where you want it?" I asked her. My voice had gone deep and rough.

"Lester…" she whimpered, twining her arms around my neck, pulling me to her and biting my bottom lip before burying her face in the crook of my sweaty neck.

"Baby, you feel so fucking good," I breathed against her throat. "I want to be inside you so bad." She was doing something with her inner muscles that had my knees shaking, threatening to pull me over the edge and I wasn't even _inside_ her. My fingers were moving against her wet depths, hard and fast, and I knew that's what she needed by the small moans that were escaping her throat. I reached up with my thumb and flicked it once across her swollen clit, sending her over the edge.

She came long and hard, gasping her way through the powerful release. A flood of wetness trickled down my hand as she trembled above me, her cheeks a deep rouge and her eyelashes fluttering. I'd never seen anything so goddamn beautiful in my life. Dayna lay against my chest and when I reluctantly withdrew my fingers from her, she protested weakly.

"Shhhh," I mumbled to her as I wrapped my arm around her waist. "You feel better?"

"No," was the gruff reply. Surprised, I lifted her chin so that her face was even with mine.

"Hey. What's the matter?" I peered into her midnight blue eyes, trying to read her thoughts. Lester Santos, psychic mercenary.

"Nothing. Never mind. Go talk to Brian." Dayna kissed me quickly before zipping up her cargoes and hauling herself back over the center console to her seat. I felt the fluids from her exertions begin to dry on my hand.

"You sure you're okay?"

Dayna nodded. "I'm fine. Go get Manny."

My two-way receiver had gotten pulled out sometime during our libido attack, and I knew Manny was waiting for me to tell him when to make his move. I located the receiver, plugged it back in, and hit 'talk'.

"Pacheco," I barked. "Let's roll." I waited to hear his response over the airwaves.

"Ten-four."

I located my Glock and chambered a round before strapping it to my hip. From across the parking lot, I watched Manny slink out of the Mercedes driver's seat and begin tiptoeing around the side of the Leiderman building, gun drawn. What a douche, I thought with a chuckle. He looked like he was starring in a _Cops: En El Barrio_ episode.

Dayna was seated next to me, worriedly biting her bottom lip. "Just be careful, Lester."

"Careful is my middle name." I flashed her one last lopsided grin before quietly hurling myself out of the Infiniti and stalking across the parking lot to join Manny at the side of the Leiderman building.

The plan was to enter the building through the front doors, since old Benny Leiderman had given RangeMan a key fob to his building in case of a situation like this. Brian had locked himself inside the building when he went in. Manny got on the two-way.

"We're moving in," he said quietly.

"Roger that," Erik replied. "We're on stand-by."

Manny and I began to slowly creep toward the front doors. I halted completely and looked at Manny.

"Put that shit away," I said to him, gesturing toward his pistol. Manny made a face and holstered the Sig before flicking me off.

"Deja el tripeo," he mumbled to me.

"No, you stop trippin'. Get your ass in front of me and open the damn doors!" I hissed. Manny pointed the key fob to the glass double doors and we heard them click open. Together, we slipped into the Leiderman atrium and smacked directly into Brian Hannigan. He was loaded down with a box of files and yelled in surprise when he saw Manny and I.

"Stop where you are!" Manny hollered, aiming the barrel of his nine in between Hannigan's eyebrows. Brian was so startled that he dropped the box he was holding, causing papers to scatter everywhere.

"Get the fuck down!" I yelled. I yanked the cuffs from my belt loops and slapped them onto Hannigan's wrists.

"What the hell is going on?" Brian screamed. "Please, don't shoot me!"

"Relax," Manny said angrily. "We almost never shoot people." With that, Manny hauled Hannigan up by the armpits and set him on his feet before "escorting" him out the double doors to the parking overhang.

"Who are you?" Brian demanded, as soon as Manny and I had gotten him up against the front of his Hummer to search him. Hal, Hector, and Erik came up behind us then, ready to give backup should the need arise. They were each wielding some sort of firearm.

"Lester Santos," I greeted Hannigan. "I don't believe we've met before. Take off your shirt."

"Geez, is that how you introduce yourself to women, too?" Hannigan growled, before complying with my wish. I tossed his t-shirt aside and patted him down in his tank top.

"Not anymore, asshole. Spread your feet apart before you choke on your teeth." I kicked his boot and checked his pants for weapons. "He's clean." I stepped back and crossed my arms over my chest. Manny and Erik whipped him around and slammed him up against the side of the Hummer. Hal had his gun trained on Hannigan while Manny and Hector searched the SUV. I took that opportunity to jog across the parking lot to the Infiniti to get Dayna.

"Get out," I said to her. "We've got Hannigan in cuffs."

"I see that. Good job." Dayna stretched her mile-long legs out of the car and stood up, stretching along the way. I slammed the car door after her and led her to the overhang where the guys were dealing with Hannigan. When Dayna approached Hannigan's line of vision, his face paled and his eyes went wide. My radar began humming again.

"Who's this?" Brian stammered.

"This is Ms. Marrero," I replied, placing my hand on the small of Dayna's back possessively. Hannigan glared at me with murderous intent after that little stunt. "She's my…business associate, if you want to put a label on it."

"Hi, Brian," Dayna said. "I know we've never met, but I'm your brother's fiancé. Dayna Marrero." She smiled at him.

"Well," Brian started. "An unfortunate way to meet, but it's nice to finally put a face with the name."

"We've been hired by Benjamin Leiderman to crack down on an ex-employee who's been making bomb threats," Erik spoke up. "We work for RangeMan Enterprises. A security company. Apparently, there's a woman named Jamie Hackett who has it out for the Leiderman Law Offices."

"I don't know a Jamie Hackett," Hannigan said slowly. "I work in the accounts receivable department for my uncle's law firm. I came here tonight to obtain outdated bank records for shredding purposes. I think you've made a huge mistake."

Suddenly, I wasn't interested in hearing any more of his shit. I grabbed him by the front of the tank top and got up close and personal. "We have surveillance video of you in your uncle's office on Sunday night," I gritted out. "You were on his computer. Your little "accomplice" is Jamie Hackett, the bomb-threat maker. Benjamin Leiderman has reported boxes of outdated bank records being missing in action. And just what luck that we'd catch you here, after hours, with boxes of outdated bank records!"

Hannigan frowned furiously and furrowed his brow. "You're crazy, Santos."

"I think I know what's going on here," I said quietly. I turned to Manny. "You and Dayna go to the Infiniti and get me my cell, while I talk to this clown."

"Sure," Dayna said, hightailing it across the parking lot with Manny. Both Hannigan and I watched her walk away, each focusing on the part of her anatomy that made me so hot for her. It hit me that I knew **exactly** who the "clown" was that I was dealing with.

"You're sick, Hannigan," I growled to him, gripping his tank top tighter in my fist. He smirked at me, his hands still behind him in my cuffs.

"Piss off, Santos."

"No thanks, _Brent_. But I do know that you're fucking around on her, and if you want to marry Dayna Marrero on Saturday you'd better be prepared to do it in a fucking prison cell." I shook him in a rage.

Brent leaned his face towards mine and when he spoke, his voice was rough and low enough for only me to hear. "You don't have shit on me, Santos."

"The fuck I don't," I spat.

"You're right. You don't. And nice bite marks, by the way. You should tell whoever your _bitch_ is that she should bruise you up in spots that could be better hidden by your wardrobe." Brent smirked. It was all I could do not to smash my fucking fist into his nose.

"You seem like an intelligent fucker. If you're wise, you'll stop talking shit. Because I'm almost certain you don't want to get married on Saturday with a broken face."

"She'll never believe you if you tell her, Santos." Brent just continued to smirk, and if Hal hadn't come up behind me and gripped the back of my arm with his foam-finger-sized hand, I'd have let Brent know that it was HIS "bitch" who put the marks on my neck. Hannigan stared me down and I finally let him go with a hard shove back against the Hummer.

Dayna came hurrying up to me with my cell and tossed it to me. "Ranger's on the line."

"Yo."

"Santos," he barked. "Let Hannigan out of those cuffs. We got nothing on him, anyway. He's got a key fob to the building, so he's here legitimately. I just got off the phone with Ben Leiderman and he told me himself that he had sent Hannigan up to the office to get some files."

I motioned for Manny to take Dayna to another part of the parking lot. When they were safely out of earshot, I spoke quietly to Ranger. "Brian and Brent Hannigan are the same person, man! I can't let him go. We're so close to cracking this shit!"

"Lester, man. Let him go. You can't legally keep him detained at this point. I don't care if he's Brent Hannigan or Brian Hannigan or the fucking president, he can't be held against his will."

"I'd like to beat his face in," I muttered.

"We all would," Ranger agreed. "But this is gray area. Let him go." The line went dead. Shit. I knew Ranger was right, but the Puerto Rican in me wanted to watch Hannigan squirm on the concrete with my boot squished into his carotids.

Manny slid the cuffs off Hannigan's wrists and shoved him back towards the driver's side door. "If you're smart, you'll get the fuck outta here before we follow you home and kick your ass from here to Timbuktu."

Dayna approached Brent. "Brian, I'm really sorry about all this."

"No harm done," he said to her, winking. "Nice to meet you." He gave Manny and I one last scathing glare before loading his now-cleaned-up box of papers into the Hummer and peeling out of the parking lot. We watched him disappear from view.

"See you back at the fort," Hal said, doing the guy handshake with me.

"Later," I said. I peaced out Hector and Erik before throwing my arm around Dayna's shoulders.

Hal locked up the Leiderman building and he and Manny returned to the Mercedes. Erik and Hector trudged back to the M3 and shut themselves inside before roaring out of the parking lot. Hal and Manny hung back in the Mercedes to wait for Dayna and I.

"Okay. Time to talk." I dragged Dayna towards the Infiniti and tossed her inside the driver's seat before shutting the door. I scooted in beside her and waited while she fired up the engine. The cool A/C blasted out at us and I stretched out on the passenger's seat beside her.

"That was weird," Dayna stated. "I'm not sure what to think about all that."

"Yeah," I said weakly.

"Geez, Brent really looks like his brother. They are truly identical twins." Dayna shook her head in disbelief. "I can't believe you all were going to arrest the poor guy."

I couldn't hold out on her any longer. I needed to tell her about Brent, and I needed to do it now. "Look. I think there's something you should know. That wasn't Brian Hannigan. That was Brent. He's romantically involved with Jamie Hackett, the arsonist. They're in this together, and I have the video surveillance tapes to prove it. We've already run background checks on a Brian Hannigan and came up with nothing. Ranger made us let him go just now because he's here legally, with a key fob from Leiderman himself. We have no hard evidence to detain him for anything, except video of him making out with Jamie Hackett on Sunday night. He never even went to Alaska! It was him, Dayna. I swear to you. I had words with him while you were getting my phone out of the car." I let out a huge breath and waited for her reaction. She stared at me for a full minute and then burst out laughing.

"I hope you're kidding," Dayna chuckled. "I mean, can you imagine if that were true? This might be your best joke yet, Santos!" She gave me one last weird look and, still laughing, jammed her foot onto the clutch.

"Wait a second," I said. I took her hand off the shift knob and gripped her shoulder. "I'm telling you the fucking truth! You have to believe me! I would NEVER lie to you about anything!"

Dayna grew angry. "If you're trying to sabotage my wedding, it's not working. I don't know what's going on inside your head, Lester, but you're scaring me. Not only do I not believe you, but this looks pretty bad on your part because of your feelings for me. I don't really think anyone would believe you at this point!"

I growled in frustration and shoved my hands through my hair. "This isn't a fucking joke! I don't know what other language to tell you in for you to understand that Brent's up to no good! Spanish, maybe? Lithuanian? I'm not letting you continue to be mixed up with this guy. He's cheating on you with a bomb-happy nutcase who's twenty years older than him! He lied to you about being in Alaska, just so he could embezzle funds from his uncle's business accounts!" I was sweating like a pig and my heart was threatening to beat out of my chest. "Ask the guys!"

"No, I will not ask the guys. I'm almost positive they'd admit you to an institution for your delusional thoughts!"

"So knowing this information, you're still gonna marry the guy? You don't love him. You're not physically attracted to him. You barely know anything about his ass! And are you gonna sit there and tell me you don't have feelings for me? You know damn well that whatever he can give you I can most definitely give it to you, too."

"Lester," Dayna said quietly. "I think you need to get out of my car."

"Excuse me?"

"You heard me. Get out of the car before I get on the two-way and tell the guys you're being weird." Dayna's eyes were angry and her jaw was set in a line. I knew that I'd messed it up, big time. The frustration I felt couldn't be matched. Why didn't she believe me? Was she in fucking denial?

"Fine, I will." I pulled her face to mine and saw that her eyes were shining. "But I want you to tell me whether or not you have feelings for me and be honest about it. Can you do that?" I demanded.

"Just get out of the car, Lester." Dayna sounded like she was ready to hit me. Hard. I couldn't look at her anymore. I had my answer. She only wanted me for a good fuck, and that was it. Whatever Brent Hannigan could give her, I, Lester Santos could also do the same. If it was financial security she was after, I could definitely give her that. If it's physical attraction she wants, well then I'm positive we blow even the hottest couples out of the fucking water. If her rich, snooty, closed-minded parents will only come to a wedding between her and Hannigan-Lecter, then I guess she and I'd better hit up Newark Airport for a plane bound for Vegas.

I threw open the car door and as soon as I'd slammed it shut, I heard her jam the car into first and burn rubber out of the parking lot. The smoke from her tires lingered in my nostrils as I stared after her in disbelief, wondering if the next time that I saw her she'd be Dayna Marrero-Hannigan and already settled into her lifetime of miserable "security." The thought was too much to bear. I was certain I'd lost her, and I wasn't getting her back.

Manny had gotten out of his Mercedes as soon as he saw Dayna squeal out of the parking lot without me. He had this look on his face that I could only describe as intense regret and sympathy. He shuffled towards me, his hands in his pockets.

"So. You told her, cabrón."

I nodded. "Didn't take it all that well. She didn't believe a word I said."

"Fuck, man. I'm sorry." Manny clapped his hand on my back.

"Yeah. Me too." I walked away from Manny, toward the Mercedes. I opened the driver's side door and hauled myself into the backseat. Hal turned around and punched my knee lightly, in sympathy. I was sprawled across the backseat with Manny's Eckō hoodie covering my face. Erik's voice filtered into my earpiece.

"What's your twenty, Santos?"

"Still at the Leiderman building with Dominguez and Pacheco," I replied. "We're getting ready to roll out in a minute."

"Ten-four."

Manny slammed himself into the driver's side and we took off, back toward the fort. I wanted to camp out in the backseat of Manny's Mercedes for the remainder of the evening, since he had a DVD player and a system that threatened to shake the fillings out of my molars when turned up to capacity. But since I was sweaty and in desperate need of a shower, I followed the guys into the elevator when we'd reached Haywood's underground garage.

"Why don't you ask Ranger for some time off?" Hal suggested. "You've been working like a fucking dog lately, bro. Maybe he'll let you stay at the beach house. Until Monday."

I stabbed the button for the second floor with my finger as soon as we were loaded into the elevator and watched as the doors shut. Hal was nuts. Pigs would fly over a frozen hell when the day came that Ranger would let me take "time off."

"Would you just go ahead and call the medical examiner to have someone waiting in the meat wagon for me after Ranger blows my fucking head off with a TEC-9?" I politely asked Hal. "Thanks, man. I'd appreciate it."

"So negative," Manny observed, as the elevator doors swung open and we stepped off onto two. He and Hal followed me into the communications center, where I promptly disconnected myself from my two-way and began unstrapping the various firearms from my legs and hips.

"Doesn't hurt to ask," said Hal. "You never know. He might say yes."

I sighed, resigned. "Fine, Dominguez. I'll fucking ask him." I slammed my way down the hall, into Ranger's office. He was sitting at his desk, staring at his computer. He wasn't doing anything, just sitting there looking at his screensaver.

"Yo," I said to him. Ranger looked up at me and motioned for me to sit in one of his guest chairs. I complied, resting my arms on the arm rails and slouching back.

"I understand that tonight didn't go as you'd planned," he began quietly.

"With Hannigan? No, of course not," I scoffed. "I'm Lester Santos, the RangeMan screw-up."

"No. With Ms. Marrero."

"Oh. Didn't go well at all, man. I told her everything, and she still didn't believe me."

"I figured. She came in here not too long ago and requested the rest of this week off, to get things together for the wedding. She said she's leaving for Perth Amboy the morning, so I guess that's where the wedding is going to be. She didn't tell me what happened between you two, but I assumed it wasn't good because I saw she'd been crying."

"Why didn't **you** tell her the truth?" I exclaimed. "She might have believed me then!"

"Santos, it wasn't my job to tell her the truth in the first place. It was yours." I didn't say anything, so Ranger continued. "Look, man. I love you like a brother and I mean this in the nicest way possible. If your brain isn't gonna be here for the next few days, then I'd prefer it if you used some of your vacation time to regroup and get your life back together. I hate seeing you this way, bro."

Holy shit on a brick. Ranger was actually suggesting that I took time off. I checked the air for flying pigs, but was only met with a strange glare from the man in black. Bless Stephanie Plum for turning his cold, dark heart warm and pink again.

"You're right," I said. "I think I will."

"Go over to the beach house in Point Pleasant for awhile. Ella will give you the keys. Take until Monday or so." Ranger stood up from his desk chair and I did the same.

"Thanks, Bossman. I owe you one for this."

"Yeah, yeah. Santos, I want you to listen to me about something, though. Ms. Marrero is a very intelligent woman. Or else I wouldn't have hired her. Believe me, she knows what's going on with this whole mess. You have to trust that she'll make the right decision when it comes down to her future. If she told you she doesn't have feelings for you, she's in serious denial. She's just doing what she thinks is expected of her, and what she thinks is best for right now. Sooner or later, she'll come to her senses. We all just have to hope that it's sooner and not later, or she'll be in a situation she can't get out of all that easily."

I'd never heard Ranger speak for that long before. He's usually barking out one-phrase orders, or speaking in mysteriously hushed tones. I nodded sagely at his words. He clapped me on the shoulder before I headed out of his office to go find Ella for the keys to his beach house on Point Pleasant Beach.

* * *

"Told you," Hal called after me, as I passed him in the hall with my large Nike gym back slung over my shoulder, car keys in hand. I looked back at him and smiled before throwing open the door to the underground garage. I noticed that Dayna's Infiniti was resting quietly in its parking space, and the memory of what we'd done in it just hours earlier was fresh in my mind as I remoted open my Escalade. I shook my head in disbelief that any of this was happening. I tossed my shit into the backseat and slammed the door shut before hauling myself in through the driver's side. I fired up the engine, kicked on a rap/reggaeton mix CD, and blew past Binkie at the guard gate on my way out of the garage and toward the streets of downtown Trenton.

Drake was booming through my system, babbling on about not meaning nothing to y'all, when my cell rang. I answered it as I picked up the 195 eastbound toward the shore.

"You goin' on a vacation without me, man?" Bobby sneered.

"Damn right. I need to find out where my brain disappeared to and put it back into my fucking head."

"I'll be out there tomorrow night, dawg. I'm bringing Pacheco, Salvatorra, and Dominguez. And plenty of liq."

"Come on, _Dominguez?_ He's a pussy drunk! One shot and he's toasted. We'll be spending the evening holding his fucking head over the damn toilet."

"Hey, he insisted he come along because he said it was his idea for you to go to the beach house."

"Tell him Ranger thought of it before I even asked!"

"Whatever, dude. Just get yourself together, aiight?" Bobby said.

"Yeah." I disconnected and turned my phone off.

About a half hour later, thanks to the magic of GPS, I was crunching through the gravel in Ranger's beach house's driveway. I pulled to a stop at a yellow and white house, brightly lit by hanging lanterns swaying in the ocean breeze near the front porch. In front of the house, beyond the street, roared the ocean. Big gray rollers crashed to the shore and way off in the distance I could see the lights of several cruise ships, floating peacefully in the Atlantic. I could only imagine how many folks were slouched behind the slot machines, getting sauced, feasting on lobster tail and all-u-can-eat shrimp. Lucky bastards.

Yep. This was the perfect place to find my sanity. Right in the middle of all these summer vacationers, red as lobsters in their floppy safari hats and tacky Hawaiian shirts.

Since it was nighttime, the street in between the house and the boardwalk was devoid of cars but the driveways of all the houses held mini-vans and large SUVs, like mine. Elderly couples and families with kids would get up early tomorrow, slather on the Banana Boat, and get ready to bake in the rays at the Jersey shore before stuffing their faces with corndogs and funnel cakes and puking after riding the Ferris wheel.

I headed up the front path and used the key Ella had given me to open the front door, and I stepped into seaside heaven. The house was cool and dark and smelled like saltwater and something coconutty. Ranger had decorated in shades of blue. I shut the door behind me and tossed my stuff onto the floor in the living room.

I went room by room, checking the place out. The master bedroom was spacious and held a king-sized bed. A balcony opened off of the bedroom and led to a backyard filled with exotic-looking plants and a small Jacuzzi. The bathroom was huge, complete with a Roman tub and a marble-tiled shower. _Hell yes,_ I thought. A wall unit entertainment center and plasma were in the living room, and the back porch had a table and chairs and an expensive-looking gas grill inside. I went into the kitchen and, just out of curiosity, yanked open the refrigerator door. Staring back at me was a twelve pack of Corona. I opened the freezer and found a half-empty bottle of rum. Another shocker from the man in black: he actually drinks something other than black coffee and water.

The booze gods had finally blessed me with something to numb my mind. I cracked open a Corona and took it to the front porch to watch the waves crash to the shore.

Four beers later, I was on my way to blissful oblivion. As I took a long pull off my fifth bottle of Corona, I realized that whatever happened from here on out, my life as I knew it would never be the same again.

**TBC...Poor Lester! He is truly messed up. Will he ever be the same? Or has Dayna ruined him for all other women?? waggles eyebrows Just a couple more chapters to go, I promise! 3, Jill **


	13. Chapter 13

**Hope everyone has been enjoying themselves! Thank you for all of your reviews and e-mails! **

**Warning: Smutty content, language, and drug usage**

My eyes creaked open and I tried to focus on the object in front of my face, but the tiny gnomes were back with their microscopic ice picks to slowly chip away at my neurons again. _Shit, _I thought. _Where the hell did I end up?_ I squinted in the darkness and made out the structure in front of me. It appeared to be the dust ruffle from a bed. Bed…whose bed? I repeated a prayer mantra in my throbbing head that the bed did NOT belong to anyone else but me.

Luckily, recognition kicked in then and I realized I was on the floor of the master bedroom in Ranger's beach house. I vaguely recalled stumbling inside from the front porch after drinking my body weight in Corona the night before. I guess I never made it to the bed.

I hauled myself up off the carpet slowly and located my cell on the nightstand. Four missed calls and four messages. Sighing, I flopped down onto the bed and hit Play.

"_Lester, this is your mother! I hope you have a good explanation as to why you didn't pick up your phone. I'm tired of talking to your answering machine! What's this I'm hearing from your sister about you having a new girlfriend? You'd better call me!" _She disconnected. The second message was from…Ranger's sister? Jesus Christ in the Bahamas.

"_Hey, Lester. It's Andréa…just wanted to see if you were down to chill tonight…call me if you want, papi." _I nearly pissed myself before deleting the message. Sooner or later I was going to have to deal with her, but now was not the time. The third and fourth messages were from Bobby.

"_I'm sure as hell you ain't shacked up with any female, so why the fuck ain't you picking up your phone, motherfucker?" _That was Bobby's first memo. The second one wasn't as nasty.

"_Me and the guys'll be there in thirty." _Shit. I glanced at the digital alarm clock on the nightstand beside me. It was five-thirty. Bobby had left the message fifteen minutes ago. Hold up. _Five-thirty? _I'd been passed the fuck out for nearly twelve hours straight. I had fifteen minutes to shower before the tag team entourage of RangeMan goof-offs showed up in the beach house driveway. I catapulted myself off the bed and dug a clean tank top and clean basketball shorts out of my duffel bag. I carried my clothes into the bathroom and located a neatly folded towel under the bathroom sink, along with a bottle of Pantene and Bulgari body wash. Great. Now my hair was going to smell like a fruitcake and the rest of me would smell like Ranger.

After I'd showered, I contemplated shaving. I'd brought along my razor, but waving four blades around in the vicinity of my face at a time like this seemed like a dangerous maneuver. Fuck it. I dried off and stretched the black tank top over my head and yanked on my red and black Chicago Bulls basketball shorts. My stomach grumbled just then and I realized I hadn't eaten a thing since lunchtime yesterday. Too late for that. The fillings in my molars began vibrating and I knew the guys were somewhere nearby.

The bass coming from Bobby's black Nissan Armada was so loud that the beach house windows shook. And they were still at least half a block away. I made my way to the front porch and stood under the light with my arms crossed over my chest to wait. A minute later, the 24-inch rims and tires of Brown's latest vehicular purchase were crunching through the gravel of the driveway and my eardrums were threatening to burst. Bobby cut the bass and the SUV roared to a stop. He climbed out of the truck and swaggered over to where I was standing before doing the complicated guy handshake with me.

"Is all that noise necessary?" I growled to him.

"Just lettin' the neighbors know who's comin' to town, dawg. I brought my homeboys with me tonight." Bobby gestured towards his SUV, where Hal, Manny, and Erik were all congregated. Hal had two duffel bags tucked under his arms as he made his way up the front path to where Bobby and I were standing. Manny was wheeling a large cooler behind him, and Erik was decked out in an ostentatious silk shirt that would have made John Gotti jealous.

Manny wheeled the cooler past me, into the house. I caught a whiff of a very specific, yet familiar scent as he squeezed around me.

"Please tell me you don't have shit on you," I whined as I followed him into the kitchen. Bobby came to stand next to me and slapped his hand on the granite countertop.

"I told him not to, but he lit a fucking blunt in the underground garage before we left," said Bobby.

"Are you insane?" I asked Manny incredulously. "We don't do that shit anymore!"

"Well, maybe YOU don't. Pussy."

I had Pacheco in a headlock quicker than it would have taken Stephanie Plum-Manoso to eat a Butterscotch Krimpet. "Pussy? Fuck you, Pacheco," I sneered into his ear. "This is for saying shit about Dayna in the garage before the stakeout last night." With that, I sucker-punched him in the gut and he oofed before recovering enough to kick my legs out from under me. We went down, swearing and clawing before Bobby and Hal yanked us apart.

"Gentlemen," Erik warned, in his ridiculous Liberace getup. "Tonight is about getting fucked up and picking up women on the boardwalk. Not about kicking each other's ass."

"You all have girlfriends!" I pointed out. "And Salvatora, the only thing you might pick up in that shirt is a cannoli."

"We don't have girlfriends tonight." Hal opened the cooler and cracked open a Corona.

I gave Manny one last shove and stalked over to the kitchen cabinets to locate something to eat. I found a jar of pickles and cracked it open before crunching one into my mouth. Hey, food is food, people.

"What did you bring?" I asked Bobby.

"Tequila...rum...Coke...Corona…vodka…Jack Daniels…margarita mix..." Bobby trailed off as he pawed through the contents of the cooler.

"Shee-it," I remarked, crunching on a second pickle. "That's a lot of liq. Too bad you guys are gonna be the only ones picking up chicks tonight."

"What!?" Hal cried. "No. No way. You're coming with us."

I shook my head. "Dominguez, I told you –

"Fuck that. Either you come with us, or we take this shit down the road to the Windswept Motel and party over there. Without you." Hal crossed his arms. I sighed, resigned.

"Fine."

* * *

The music coming from Jenks Night Club was almost as loud as the bass in Bobby's SUV. We were already pleasantly buzzed before getting in line to enter the club.

"I can't believe I let you guys talk me into coming here," I yelled to Hal over the music.

"Don't worry, you'll be fine!" Hal screamed back. He clapped me on the back of the shoulder and we inched forward in line. I could see the inside of the darkened club now, and the flashing lights were making the headache I had earlier creep back into my skull. Manny hung back with a cigarette between his fingers.

"Come on, dawg," Bobby exclaimed, motioning for Manny to join us near the front of the line. Manny flicked his filter into a nearby ashtray and strode up to the club doors. The bouncer motioned for us to flash our IDs. He allowed us access and the five of us crowded around in the club's foyer once we were inside.

"I'll take care of the cover," Bobby announced, spying an attractive chick in the ticket window. He went up to the window and handed the dark-skinned girl on the other side a fifty and told her to keep the change. She smiled seductively at him and blew him a kiss. Gag me. I whipped out my cell.

"I'll just get Ana on the line," I said, getting ready to dial. Ana Arias has been Bobby's girl since he started at RangeMan with me two years ago. She grew up on the mean streets of Washington Heights and learned ass-kicking at an early age. I didn't think she'd be too thrilled to find her man flirting. Besides, I liked Ana for Bobby. She was cool.

Bobby slapped my iPhone out of my hands with an almost comical ease. "Call her and you die."

"Break my shit and YOU die." I reached down and retrieved my phone, relieved to see that it was still in one piece.

"Santos, man. What's with all the animosity tonight?" Erik asked me as we trouped out of the foyer and onto the dance floor.

"He's still hung up on Ms. Marrero, that's all." Hal shrugged. "She's getting married in three nights."

"For real," Manny said before whistling long and low. "She's fucking up her life, man."

"With that Hannigan guy," Erik piped up. "I'm almost certain he's in on the shit that's going down with Leiderman."

"Can we not talk about that shit?" I asked Erik. "I think I might puke." Erik nodded and led me away from the dance floor, toward the bar.

"You want a drink?" he asked me. I nodded. Hell yes, I wanted a drink.

"Jägerbomb."

Erik whistled. "Damn, Santos."

When the Jägerbomb was nestled safely in the comfort of my duodenum, and my esophagus had stopped burning like hell, I followed the guys back out to the dance floor. Bobby had immediately located himself a Halle Berry-looking skank, Erik had found a girl that had more hair on her top lip than Connie from Vinnie Plum's bonds office, and Hal was grinding with a fake blonde with even faker-looking tits. The blonde spotted me and immediately shimmied away from Hal and came over to where I was standing.

"Hey," she yelled over Lil' Wayne's bass. "I'm Kimberly."

"Lester."

"Wanna dance with us?" she asked in what sounded to me like a European accent, motioning toward Hal. She sounded like the tiny blonde from that movie Steph watches a lot, _Coyote Ugly_.

"No, thanks," I yelled back. I stuck my hands in the pockets of my jeans and scanned the club for a brightly-lit EXIT sign. Fake Boobs wasn't taking no for an answer. She had her chest pressed up against mine and I could feel her nipples harden through my tee shirt. Ugh.

The Jägerbomb hit me ten-fold just then and my vision began swimming. I glanced down at Kimberly and took notice that she had four heads full of platinum bleached-blonde hair. I blinked to clear the cobwebs and saw her watching me.

"Lester, are you okay?" Kimberly yelled up at me. I nodded and looked around for Hal, but he'd disappeared. Fucker. Kimberly wound her skinny, tanning-bed-tanned arms around my neck and pulled me closer to her when a slow jam called _No Air_ by Jordin Sparks and Chris Brown blasted through the club's sound system. My heart splintered into pieces as I thought of Dayna, and Kimberly took my pained facial expression as an invitation to thread her fingers through my hair and yank my face down to hers. My legs and arms were numb as I felt her collagen-enhanced lips touch mine, and I couldn't muster up enough strength to try and pull away.

My brain wasn't connected with my body. I was kissing a woman that I couldn't even pick out of a lineup, and she was grinding herself against my crotch and…fuck me, I was getting fucking _hard_ from it. I didn't want to do this. I couldn't stop it. My head was so messed up. I wanted Dayna. I wanted it to be her tongue that mine was sliding against, not Kimberly's. I wanted Dayna's waves of light brown and honey blonde curls to be woven between my fingers, not what's-her-name's bleached blonde crimps.

I let Kimberly lead me out a back exit and into a darkened hallway. She slammed the door behind us and immediately latched herself onto my body, dipping and grinding like there was no tomorrow.

"Lester," Kimberly breathed. "I want you, right here and right now." This would not be a sentimental, passionate event for me. This was about one thing only: her cleaning up the mess in my pants that she'd started on the dance floor.

When I touch a woman's breast, I expect to feel smooth, supple flesh and a hard little nipple in the center of my palm. Not a bag of saline with skin stretched tightly over it. That's what Kimberly's tits felt like to me. She had my pants unbuttoned and my fly down in two seconds, and she had the condom in her hand and was getting ready to roll it down over me…and suddenly, the fog in my head cleared and I snapped.

"No!" I yelled forcefully, grabbing her wrist and halting all progress she'd made with the condom.

"Oh, you don't want to use this?" Kimberly asked innocently, snapping the condom off of my dick and tossing it to the side. I ran my fingers through my hair in frustration.

"Fuck, I can't do this," I growled to her. I flicked her wrist out of my hand and zipped my fly. Kimberly yanked up her thong and stood in front of me with a puzzled expression on her face.

"We don't have to do THAT, Lester," Kimberly pointed out. "At least let me finish what I started." She smiled seductively and got down on her knees. I yanked her up onto her stilettos and stared into her face.

"No. We're finished _now_." I whirled around and stalked towards the exit at the end of the darkened hallway. I heard Kimberly clattering after me and when she reached my side, she stopped me with a hand to my shoulder.

"Whoever she is, she's obviously really important to you, Lester," Kimberly said quietly. I looked down at her and flecks of realization passed through her blue eyes. I nodded and continued down the hall. I had to get out of here. Kimberly followed, trying her best to keep up with me on her four-inch stilettos. We approached the exit at the end of the hall and burst through the door into the warm, open air of the boardwalk.

I immediately located a table at the outside bar next door and flopped down, motioning for Kimberly to join me. She teetered off of her heels and sat across from me in a plastic chair. A waitress approached the table to take our orders.

"I'll have a bottle of water," Kimberly told her.

"Same," I said to the waitress. The waitress rolled her eyes and left to get our "big" purchases. I peered at Kimberly through thick lashes and watched as she rubbed off the rest of her Crimson Kiss lipstick with a paper towel. She had to have been only about eighteen or nineteen, and I wondered how she even got herself into Jenks to begin with.

"So," Kimberly said to me when she was done wiping.

"So. How old are you, eighteen?" I asked her. She shook her head.

"Twenty-six." The waitress set two icy bottles of water onto our table and Kimberly took one. She twisted off the cap and took a sip.

I was shocked. She looked so much younger. This girl was twenty-six and still didn't know any better not to fuck strange guys she meets at clubs. At least she thought to use protection. Maury Povich would have had a field day with all the paternity testing. "You know, you shouldn't do what you did earlier. You're lucky I'm not a serial rapist." I took an open-mouthed swig of my water and stared at her.

Kimberly blushed. "I usually don't. You looked like you needed some kind of distraction, that's all. You looked sad for some reason. You're incredibly hot. I wanted to see your smile."

I couldn't help but grin at her. She was aiight. "Well, here it is. Look all you want." Kimberly returned my smile and quickly sobered.

"Lester. Your friends are still in there, dancing. I'm guessing they brought you here to get your mind off of your girlfriend." Kimberly frowned.

"She's not my girlfriend." I chugged the last few sips of my water and tossed the bottle into a nearby trashcan. I leaned back in the plastic chair and crossed my arms, glaring at her.

"Yes. She is." Kimberly smiled again. "She's your soulmate."

I scoffed and snickered. Soulmate. _Oh, yeah? Well, where the hell are you now, soulmate?_ I wanted to scream. My chest began to ache and my eyes misted up. Kimberly reached across the table and touched my arm gently.

"I can't believe I just let her go," I said, my voice cracking.

"She won't marry him, Lester. Don't worry. This is what you need to do now. Go home, back to your beach house. Your friends will find you there."

"How do you know she won't marry him?" I whispered across the table to her. Kimberly rose from her chair and took five dollars out of her little handbag before tossing it onto the patio table. She smiled knowingly at me.

"Lester. If you really love her, set her free. If she comes back, she's yours. If not, it wasn't meant to be."

I was floored at how Kimberly seemed to know what was going on with Dayna and I. I'm pretty sure I didn't tell her, unless Hal did…nahh. This was all too weird. Kimberly bent down and planted a kiss on my scruffy cheek. She smiled one last smile before I turned around to try to snag the waitress. When I turned back to Kimberly, she'd disappeared.

I leapt up from the table, frantically searching in all directions for the tall, bleached blonde in the stretchy blue dress. She couldn't have gone far. I'd only turned my head for a second! I jumped in front of a table full of teenagers.

"Did you guys see where the blonde girl in the blue dress went?" I demanded. They all looked at me like I was from fucking Saturn. They shook their heads.

"Sorry, man," one kid said. "I didn't see her." I growled in frustration.

I ran back around to the outside of Jenks and spotted Bobby, Hal, and Erik grouped around the fuzzy ropes. Manny was off to the side, puffing on a cigarette.

"There you are," exclaimed Hal when he spotted me. "Where have you been?"

"With this girl," I started. Manny interrupted me.

"Eyyyy, he's already over Ms. Marrero!" he cried, flicking his cigarette absentmindedly and nearly igniting a trash can. He strode over to me and clapped me on the back.

"No, no! We were talking, and it was like she _knew_ exactly what I've been going through, man! She was telling me that Dayna won't marry Brent, and she'll come back –

"Ain't that some shit," Bobby exclaimed. "Some chick was filling his head with garbage."

"Whatever, bro," I said angrily. "You didn't see her anywhere?"

"Last I saw her, she had her tongue down your throat on the dance floor," Hal said. "Glad I backed off."

I wanted to go back to the beach house and pass out. I wanted Manny's stash of weed and more alcohol. I began stalking down the boardwalk back towards the beach house and the guys were trailing after me, singing their own rendition of "Killing Me Softly."

When I reached the house, I immediately went in search of Manny's stash and located it in a drawer in the kitchen. I carried the bag along with a grape-flavored Philly and a bottle of Cuervo out to the back porch and set up shop at the patio table. I heard the sliding glass door open behind me and Bobby stepped out into the patio. He shut the door behind him and took a seat next to me. We sat silently for several minutes and when I'd rolled myself a good-sized blunt, he took it from me and lit it. We smoked quietly for a long time, until Bobby started up a coughing fit and I gave him my bottle of Cuervo to calm down.

"Damn, Santos," he choked out after taking a swig. "This shit burns even more!"

"It's all I brought out here with me," I said to him. "I'm surprised you're hitting that." I gestured towards the blunt we'd been smoking.

"Fuck it," Bobby grumbled. "I'm long overdue."

"Same here." I chugged a mouthful of tequila and leaned my head back against the lounge chair. My life was slowly swirling down the shitter with little hope of recovery. I sighed loudly.

"She's getting married, dawg. I don't know how else to get you to realize that. If you don't let this shit go, you're gonna fuck up your life and your career."

I nodded. I hated to admit it, but Bobby was right. I lit the blunt again and took a long hit, letting the smoke curl out of my nose several seconds later. It was too much to think about at the moment.

"That girl from earlier. Her name was Kimberly. I think I was so fucked up that I imagined her, man."

"No, you didn't. I saw her, Manny saw her, and Hal even danced with her."

"But she disappeared into fucking thin air!" I exclaimed. "And she knew what was happening with me and Dayna, and I didn't even tell her. And I don't think anyone else did."

"Maybe she was, like, a ghost or something."

Bobby and I were silent after that. I stared out into the lush vegetation of the backyard, riding on the buzz of the combination of weed and tequila. Bobby followed my gaze to a small wooden shed that stood between a few tall bushes. It was padlocked. I got up and tipsily ambulated towards the screen door to the backyard.

"Where you goin'?" Bobby slurred. He rose from his lounge chair and followed me into the backyard and over to the shed. "I bet Ranger keeps women locked in here." I slugged him on the arm.

"Only one way to find out." I checked out the padlock and found that it wasn't latched. _Jackpot._ I tossed the padlock into the grass and yanked back the double doors to the shed. It was pitch black inside, so I whipped out my cell and shined it into the shed. A string hung in front of my face and I gave it a tug, and an orange glow flooded the shed. To my absolute awe, in the shed were a jet ski on a small trailer, two long boards, a set of water skis, several pool floats and toys, and…a Suzuki GSX1300R. Otherwise known as a Hayabusa. One of the world's fastest motorcycles. Holy fuck.

"Damn," Bobby gritted out, punching his left palm with his right fist. "Ranger's full of fucking surprises!" He gave a bark of laughter.

I was still speechless. I stepped into the shed and ran my hand down the seat of the crotch rocket. I found my voice. "Bossman rides this. There's gravel stuck in the tire treads."

"Hell, yeah, he fucking rides this!" Bobby exclaimed. He whistled. "He'd be a damn fool not to."

I lifted the kickstand with my boot and started to wheel the bike out of the shed. Bobby stopped me with a hand to my side.

"At-ta-ta-ta," Bobby said to me. "I don't think so, Smokey."

"What, you gonna tell Big Worm on me?" I said, allowing a slow smile to spread across my face.

"Hellified no. I'm gonna have to ask that you put that thing back into that shed and forget it exists. I don't want to have to put in a call to Ranger." Bobby crossed his huge arms across his chest.

I ignored him and wheeled the bike the rest of the way out the shed. "At least let me ride it down the street."

Our talking had caught the attention of Hal, Erik, and Manny. They were grouped around in the patio, staring out at Bobby and I through the screen, passing the blunt around.

"Let him ride it, Brown. When he accidentally amputates something, maybe he'll listen next time." Erik coughed.

"Hey. Liberace. No one's fuckin' talking to you," I growled, pointing at Salvatora. "And Ray Liotta called. He wants his shirt back."

"Santos –

"Just let him ride it," yelled Hal. "He's fine."

I located the keys to the bike hanging on a hook in the shed. I walked it to the front of the beach house to the sidewalk, with everybody following after me. I stuck the helmet on my head and turned the keys in the ignition. The bike roared to life and I nearly shit my pants.

"Look. I've had a rough day. I just wanna take a ride and forget about shit for awhile, okay?" I reasoned with the guys.

"Okay," said Bobby skeptically. "Just keep that fucking helmet on and stay clear of the damn cops. You're blazed AND drunk, you know."

"Yeah. I know." I revved the engine and took off at warp speed, feeling the warm breeze blow through my tee shirt and whip across my jeans. The bike was faster than I'd expected. I turned around to glance back at the guys, but that proved to be a dumb-ass mistake.

I didn't see the patch of gravel on the road. I skidded through it and somehow was launched off the bike. I flew through the air for what seemed like a thousand feet, and when I landed everything went black.

**TBC...almost done. I promise!**


	14. Chapter 14

**Hello to all! I hope you're all enjoying your weekend. I also hope to hear from you about this newest chapter of Can't Bill the Insurance, so please let me know what you think so far! Thank you to everyone who has read and reviewed! ---Jill **

I heard the talking even before I opened my eyes. From somewhere to my left, I recognized the voice as Bobby's, and he sounded like he was on the phone. He sounded like he was extremely far away, like in another dimension.

"Yeah," he was saying. "He's not awake yet. I'm hoping soon, though…tell the guys…I've got antibiotic ointment all over his back under the bandages…I don't know. He hit his head pretty hard. Thank Christ he had a fucking helmet on…he's been out for almost two days now…yeah, I'll let him know when he wakes up. Peace."

_Antibiotic ointment on my back?_ I wondered. I brought my hand slowly up to touch my face. I seemed to still have one, so that was a good sign. What the hell happened to me? Why did I have a helmet on? Was I _skydiving?_ Go-kart racing? What the fuck happened to me!?

"Bobby," I croaked, still unable to open my eyes against the throbbing pain in my skull. Bobby was at my side in a heartbeat.

"Lester, man, you're awake," he exclaimed. I was on my stomach on a sofa, and I felt something cool and icy on my back.

"Where am I?" I grunted.

"The beach house, man." Bobby fussed with the icy cool thing on my back.

"What in the mother-fuck happened to me?"

"You had a motorcycle accident."

A motorcycle accident. Holy fuck. When did I ride a motor…wait a second. The memory flashed into my brain like a freight train. I was sailing along on Ranger's Hayabusa and hit gravel. I flew off and…that's the last thing I remembered.

"What day is it?" I asked Bobby. He looked pained.

"Just go back to sleep." He squeezed my shoulder.

"What…day…is…it?" I asked through clenched teeth. Bobby took a few seconds to answer me.

"It's Saturday, dawg," Bobby replied quietly. My heart contracted and a rogue breath escaped my lungs. It was Dayna's wedding day. I finally opened my eyes and fumbled around on the nightstand for my cell.

"I have to call her," I gritted out, once I'd located it. Bobby snatched it from my hands and shoved it into the pocket of his jeans.

"No. You're not calling her. Dude, LET IT GO. I'm not gonna stay here and see you like this."

"Where are the guys?" I asked him.

"They took my truck back to Trenton. I'm taking yours back today. I'm coming back here to pick you up on Monday morning. I've taken all the alcohol and all keys to motorized things away from your ass. You need to rest. You messed up your back and got knocked the hell out. We all watched you fly off that bike and get worked. You're lucky we didn't take you to the hospital so they could give you a CT scan and book you for a DUI at the same time."

"Gee, thanks."

"Hey. You're welcome." Bobby removed my cell from his jeans pocket and placed it on top of the entertainment center across the room. Evil bastard. I watched as he gathered his things and jammed them into his duffel bag. He disappeared into the bathroom to gather the rest of his stuff and when he came out, he was laughing.

I twisted my head so that he could see me glaring. "What?" I demanded. Bobby tossed a bottle of Axe body wash and an expensive-looking razor into his bag. He zipped it shut and tossed it on the floor before perching himself on the edge of the coffee table, his elbows resting on his knees. He leered at me with eyes full of concern, betraying his smirking mouth.

"We haven't been fucked up like that in awhile, dawg."

"No shit." I winced as I felt a stab of heat rush across my lower back. "Got anything for this pain?"

Bobby shook his head. "Not anything that'll be strong enough to put you back to sleep." He got up and retrieved my cell phone from the entertainment center. "I've already deleted Ms. Marrero's phone numbers and all texts from her out of your phone. And I've already told the guys that under no circumstances are they to give you her number when you call them and ask for it after I leave. Sorry, man. Ranger's orders."

"Ranger can go suck a dick," I muttered. Bobby set my phone on the pillow next to my arm and grabbed up my Escalade keys and his duffel bag.

"Any new developments on the Leiderman case?"

"Not a damn thing. No activity at the Leiderman building since Tuesday night. No Jamie Hackett or Brian/Brent Hannigan sightings. No suspicious activity. Hector, Cal, Junior, Ram, and Tank have been doing security details for the past couple days now."

"Ain't that some shit." I shook my head in disbelief. Weird.

"I'll see you Monday morning. Oh, and by the way. Speaking of Ranger…you owe him a Hayabusa."

Swell.

* * *

I was in the bathroom, checking out my injuries in the mirror. I slowly lifted the corner of the big white bandage that covered my back and cringed when I saw what I'd done to myself. Four-by-eight patch of road rash covering my lower back and wrapping around to my left side. Deep laceration on my left forearm, held together with butterfly stitches. Bashed-up knee that looked like someone wearing steel-toed work boots kicked the shit out of it. Headache from hell. Busted bottom lip. Three days worth of beard growth. Yikes. I was fucking frightening.

The bandage covering the road rash needed to be replaced because it was saturated with a yellowish substance. I hobbled out to the living room and called Bobby on my cell.

"What am I supposed to do about changing this bandage?" I asked him when he'd answered.

"I left some extra ones under the bathroom sink for you. Apply the ointment again. What color is the bandage?"

"It's a little yellow," I said, giving the bandage a sniff. "It doesn't smell bad, though."

"That's fine. Just plasma draining from the abrasion. Call me if it turns green or starts bleeding." The line went dead.

Sighing, I slunk back into the bathroom and located the clean bandages. There was a large tube of triple antibiotic ointment next to the stack, so I slathered it onto my road rash, allowing only a minimum of creative swear words to escape. I ripped the sterile bandage out of its paper and carefully applied it to my wounds, patting gently. I stood back and admired my handiwork in the mirror. _Not bad, Dr. Santos. _

My lip wasn't too badly damaged. Just a little cut near the corner that had already started to scab over. I didn't want to ruin the work of my successful bandaging talents in the shower, so I settled for taking a "ho" bath in the sink. I managed to soak the bathroom walls, the rugs, and most of the towels by doing so, but the bandage had stayed dry. Sweetness.

I shaved next. I was out of clean shirts and tank tops, so I found a pair of basketball shorts in my duffel bag that didn't appear _too_ dirty and carried them back to the bathroom. Now for the challenge: putting them on.

Since my knee didn't really hurt that bad, I was mostly concerned about bending over with the road rash. It was fucking killing me.

"Aiight, Santos," I said aloud to myself. "No wimping out. Just get the shorts on and you'll be fine. Quick and painless." I was able to get myself off the couch okay, so I figured this wouldn't be that much harder.

I managed to lift my right leg up and plant my right foot flat on the closed toilet seat. So far so good. I tossed my shorts onto the toilet seat and wiggled my right foot through the correct leg hole. Hanging onto the decorative towel bar next to me, I lifted my right leg and watched as the shorts slid up to my thigh. One down, two to go, I thought with a naughty snicker. I set my right leg up on the sink and gingerly inched my left arm towards the shorts. I heard a creak behind me and, to my horror, the decorative towel bar cracked off of the bathroom wall and dropped to the ground, carrying me with it.

"FUCK!" I hollered at the top of my lungs. I toppled backwards near the tub and the road-rashed portion of my back landed directly on top of the broken towel bar. A girly scream echoed through the bathroom and I realized it was from me. Yeah, there was no way I was going to be able to get up NOW. My back throbbed uncontrollably and I'd re-bashed my knee on the sink.

"_Hello?"_ I heard a voice warble out through the open windows in the front living room. "Anybody in there?"

"Help," I called weakly from my cocoon of dampened bathroom rugs, busted towel bar pieces, and basketball shorts. I heard the front door click open and shut quietly. Hadn't Bobby locked me in? I looked up when I heard footsteps approach the open bathroom door. I quickly yanked a decorative towel out from under my leg and threw it over Little Lester's zone, to keep him modest. From where I was lying, I could see the brightly-patterned shirt and curly gray hair of an older woman. I twisted my head to get a better look at her. She was smiling down at me with hot pink-coated lips.

"What happened here?" her little voice cooed to me.

"I…um…" I cleared my throat and peered at her. "Who are you?"

The lady laughed gently and knelt down to help me sit up. She put her arm around my bare shoulders and propped me against the cool porcelain of the bathtub. "My name is Jean. I live just a few houses down, and I was heading to the corner store for a few things when I heard you yell through the open windows." Jean squatted next to me and looked my injuries over. "You don't look too good, young man."

I sighed and shook my head. "I'm not doing that great."

"Would you like me to help you get cleaned up?" Jean asked me.

I took a few seconds to think it over, then slowly nodded to her. "I had a motorcycle accident two days ago and I just woke up today. My friends have been taking care of me, but they had to leave to go back to work."

"I see." Jean reached down to my ankles and put my feet through the legs of my shorts. She brought the shorts up to my thighs and chuckled. "Can you handle this from here?" I nodded again and Jean stepped out of the bathroom while I managed to pull the basketball shorts around my waist. She re-entered and bent down to try to lift me into a standing position.

"No offense, but I'd hate it if you hurt yourself," I said warily.

"Nonsense. I've been a nurse for thirty-five years and have lifted patients twice your size. I just retired six months ago." Jean tucked herself under my right arm and managed to stand me up. She helped me hobble out into the living room and watched as I cautiously sprawled myself out on the couch. "I'll go fix up the bathroom."

Jean disappeared into the bathroom and I heard her whistling to herself as she worked. She reappeared at my side several minutes later with the stack of bandages and the tube of antibiotic ointment. I glanced down at my bandage and groaned when I saw blood saturating through the white gauze.

"Shit," I whispered. I twisted to my side and saw Jean head to the kitchen. She took a washcloth and ran it under cool water before wringing it out and carrying it over to where I lay on the couch.

"Looks like you did a number on your back, young man," Jean said, gently removing the bandage and pressing the cool cloth to my road rash. It felt good.

"It's Lester," I gritted out. "_Young man_ makes me feel like I'm in trouble."

Jean clucked over my injuries and shook her head. She sat across from me on the coffee table and removed the cool cloth. I watched as she opened a new bandage and twisted the cap off the tube of ointment. She squeezed a huge amount of ointment onto my wound and spread it around, but for some reason it didn't hurt that much when she did it as when I had done it before. She placed a new bandage over my road rash and wiped the excess ointment off her hands onto a clean towel.

"There," she said, gathering up all of the used supplies. "That should do it."

"Thank you," I croaked out. Jean carted everything off to the kitchen and returned to the living room with two glasses of iced tea. I'd managed to sit up halfway on the couch, so she handed me one and carried the other to the recliner across from me. She took a sip, made a satisfactory sound in her throat, and sat back in the chair.

"So tell me, Lester. What brings you to Point Pleasant? I know you don't live here. All the locals are much darker tanned." Jean grinned at me over her iced tea glass.

I sighed. "I'm here for a mental health vacation. Although it's been more like a carnival ride through hell." I sipped my tea.

"From the looks of your injuries I'd say so," chuckled Jean. "You must be a friend of Ranger's then."

"You know Ranger?"

"Oh, my, yes! Such a wonderful young man. So handsome and polite, just like you. I remember when he got married last year, to that bounty hunter from Trenton. Stephanie-something."

"Plum."

"Plum. That's right. Ranger had brought Stephanie here to Point Pleasant just a few months after their wedding. She was expecting their first baby," Jean said proudly.

"Yeah. She had her a few weeks ago. Samantha."

Jean's smile grew. "That's wonderful. Such a nice young couple. My husband Elton and I have owned our house here for nearly twenty years. When Ranger bought this place, he did a lot to fix it up. He said he wanted to bring his family here someday. Well, he did just that." Jean sipped her tea.

"Ranger sent me here to get my mind off some stuff that's been bothering me. I work for him at his security company in Trenton, called RangeMan. But some of our other friends came to visit me, and things got a little out of hand with the alcohol. I did some stuff I shouldn't have done."

"What's been on your mind to make you…do all of those things?" Jean asked me.

"Nothing, just stupid stuff," I grumbled.

Jean looked like she didn't buy it. Smiling, she asked, "What's her name?"

Damn. Did _everyone_ assume my troubles were always over a woman? "Dayna."

"Dayna." Jean nodded. "She must be beautiful, if she's worth nearly putting yourself in traction."

"Jesus," I grumbled. "She's the best thing and the worst thing that's ever happened to me rolled into one." My head fell back against the couch pillows and my eyes shut as I tried to conjure up a vision of her. I couldn't. The vision was too fuzzy.

Something about Jean made me feel almost like a kid again. She had motherly qualities, maybe because she was a nurse and because she had taken care of me just now, but I felt comfort in her presence. I knew that she would somehow understand what I was going through.

The whole story came out then, and Jean took it all in eagerly. I told her about Hal getting shot, and meeting Dayna for the first time. And then I told her about our snippy conversations that always left me wanting more, and about kissing her senseless in my apartment when she came over to borrow my iPhone charger. I told her about the amazing things that had happened down in the gun range and about that creep Hannigan and Dayna's engagement to him. I explained the whole Leiderman bombing mess to her and I told her how much I wanted to be with Dayna and how my heart is fucking broken because of the way she'd ended things between us. I cried my fucking eyes out when I got to the part about how today is Dayna's wedding day, and Jean abandoned her recliner and tea and sat down next to me on the couch and took me in her arms to shush me as I bawled.

"Lester," Jean said softly, as she rubbed my sweaty shoulder. "Please, stop crying. I know this is hard for you, but it will only get harder if you continue to sob."

Slowly, my gut-wrenching sobs were reduced to sniffles and Jean ran to the bathroom for tissues. As I blew my nose, I realized that I wasn't the same Lester Santos as I had been weeks ago. I was different.

"I want different things now," I tried to explain to Jean. "I used to be with different girls constantly. Just for the hell of it. I_ never_ wanted to settle down."

"What do you think changed all that?" Jean asked me.

"She did. She's so perfect for me. I thought she could see that, but I guess not."

"I'll bet she does know that, Lester. But she has an obligation to marry Brent. For whatever reason, he is her choice. Yes, he is a two-timer and a con artist. If she can't see that, then she's jaded. But I'm almost certain she'd rather be with you. Have you ever asked yourself what you'd do if she came to you later on and said she'd like to have a relationship with you? After she sees what a creep Brent is?"

It was funny to hear Jean say _creep. _"I don't know, I guess I'd be happy. But it's almost like she'd be giving him a test drive and then going with a different brand of car once she's figured out the kinks."

Jean laughed. "Weird point. But well-taken." She handed me another tissue. "Lester, I know how hard it is to lose a loved one."

"Yeah?"

"Of course. There have been many patients I've grown fond of over the years who have passed on. And my parents died when I was young."

"Oh. I'm sorry."

Jean simply smiled. "You're twenty-eight?" I nodded. "You're too young to be sitting here talking to an old woman like me, with road burns and cuts all over yourself. You should be lucky that this is the extent of your injuries."

"I am."

Jean and I sat in comfortable silence for several minutes while we finished our iced tea. Jean set her glass down on the coaster it had been resting on and reached across the table for her small change purse.

"I'd like to show you something," she said quietly.

"Sure."

Jean pulled a picture of a smiling blonde out of her wristlet. She handed it to me and I had to choke back a laugh. Her granddaughter was Kimberly, from the night club.

"This is my granddaughter," Jean said sadly. She gave me a wavering smile as her eyes suddenly filled with tears. "She passed away last year. She killed herself. She was twenty-six, just about your age."

My heart splintered into pieces inside my chest. For Jean, for Kimberly, for the loss of my relationship with Dayna, for my near-death motorcycle ride that could have ended it all. Everything got to me again and I winced as a thick, fat tear drop rolled out of my eye and traveled down my cheek.

Jean hugged the picture of Kimberly to her chest and stared tearfully up at the ceiling. She sat like that for several minutes until I finally put my arm around her shoulders. She smelled like my precious abuelita, like White Diamonds. I choked out another sob and Jean turned to face me tearfully.

"Promise me that you'll be okay from all of this, Lester," she said tearfully. "I don't want you to put yourself in danger anymore. I don't want _your_ grandmother to be showing your picture to people, crying." Jean wiped her eyes and grasped both of my hands in each of hers.

"I will," I promised. "Jean, you know I will." She hugged me tightly and it hurt my side but I didn't care. Nothing compared to the pain I was feeling on the inside at that moment.

Several moments passed and Jean released me, sniffing loudly. She tucked the picture of Kimberly back into her wristlet and zipped it up. I'd known all along that there was something special about Kimberly, and I suddenly realized why she'd shown up at the club that night and what her message to me was all about.

"I saw Kimberly on the night of my motorcycle accident, Jean," I said quietly. Jean stopped cold and stared up at me with wide, teary eyes.

"What?" she whispered. I nodded.

"She was with me and my friends in the club. She told me that if I really loved Dayna that I should set her free; and if she came back to me then she was mine. If not, it was never meant to be."

Jean sat silently for what seemed like hours. She'd gone from teary and frightened to peaceful within a few minutes. "Kimberly was crushed after she and her boyfriend Todd broke up. I remembered how sad she was about that young man. I'd told her the same thing she'd told you, right after Todd ended things with her: if she really loved him, she should set him free. If he came back, he was hers. If not, it was never meant to be."

"He never came back, huh."

Jean shook her head and stared thoughtfully into space. "Nope. He'd gotten a job offer in South Dakota, and left town. Never to be seen again. I suppose it was too much for Kimberly to handle."

"Yeah," I said, my voice cracking.

Jean smiled at me and placed her hand on my cheek. "You're a wonderful young man, Lester. I have faith that you'll find happiness. You are truly ready to settle down and give a lucky woman the life she deserves." I hugged Jean again and she stood up, slipping her wristlet over her wrist. She carried the empty iced tea glasses into the kitchen and came back into the living room just as I'd attempted to get myself into a standing position.

"Thank you for everything," I said to Jean. She smiled again and shook her head.

"No, thank _you_, Lester. You don't know how much you've helped _me_. Elton and I live in the pink and yellow house to the left. Elton chose those awful colors, not me. If you need anything at all, please don't hesitate to get in touch with us." With a flash of brightly-colored Hawaiian shirt and hot-pink lipstick, Jean was gone, and I was once again alone.

* * *

The sun had set after Jean left, and the beach house was cool and dark and quiet. I was coming off a two-hour _Real World: Washington D.C._ rerun stint and my cell phone hadn't so much as made a sound. _Thanks a lot for calling to see how I'm doing, people, _I thought. I picked the iPhone up off the coffee table and hit the menu button. Five missed calls! I checked the side of the phone and sure enough, the damn thing was switched to silent.

Bobby, Ranger, Hal, my sister, and an unfamiliar number with a Trenton area code. Hmmm…I called Ranger to tell him I'd take care of his bike and thanked him profusely for not sending one of his thug-wannabe contract employees here to Point Pleasant to finish me off. I called Bobby and Hal and told them I was doing okay. I called my sister Damaris and found out that my ex-girlfriend Monica had gotten back together with Tiny, the guy she dumped me for several months ago. I resisted the urge to call the unfamiliar number back, thinking it was probably a telemarketer or a wrong number.

I popped a couple aspirins to take the sting out of my back and the ache out of my knee and carried a fresh glass of iced tea out to the front porch, hobbling around like a ninety-year-old man. Damn that Robert Darius Brown for confiscating all the booze. I would really liked to have made that iced tea into a Long Island one.

The padded wicker chairs on the beach house's front porch were comfortable, but as I stared out across the little dirt road to the sand and the blackness of the ocean, I decided that they weren't comfortable enough for me to sit there any longer.

I guzzled the rest of my iced tea and made my way to the end of the front path, near the sidewalk. The big gray rollers were crashing on the shore, some fifty yards from where I was standing. The moon was out and illuminated the sand. I hobbled across the small dusty street and stepped onto the sand, still warm from the day's sun. The beach was empty. I glanced up and down the street at the houses dotting the road, and everybody was in for the night, having spent a long day in the sun, gobbling up corn dogs and wasting money playing the shitty arcade games.

My feet led me to the water's edge and the foamy swells swirled around my ankles as the waves crashed in front of me. I started walking, slowly because of my knee and back, but when I stopped and checked out my surroundings, I was about ten houses down from Ranger's bungalow. Shit. I was gonna sit my ass down no matter where I was. My knee was hurting. I backed up a few feet and lowered myself into the sand, leaning back on my elbows as I sprawled my legs out in front of me.

I tried to imagine my life knowing I'd never again get a chance to convince Dayna that I truly cared for her, that I wanted something with her; knowing that she'd married someone else and had put out the fire that we'd started together. I couldn't come to terms with things just yet. I missed her so badly that I ached all over, and it wasn't just from my injuries. Something deep inside me just…ached.

As I glanced up at the moon, I knew that the damage was done. Dayna was married. She would never be mine. If anything further happened between us, I'd just be "the other guy." The home wrecker. Suppose Dayna got pregnant by Brent. Then what? I'd have to watch her prance around RangeMan with her big belly, swollen with some other man's child. Some other man who was cheating on her and was plotting to destroy a multi-million dollar law firm with his mistress. It was unreal that Dayna had refused to believe me on Tuesday night. I wondered if RangeMan and the Trenton P.D. would ever be able to indict Brent on any charges. He was a fungus, and could probably weasel his way right out of them anyway.

It was over now. I've only known Dayna for a few weeks. I'd be able to recover from this, right? RIGHT? Shit, I was losing it big time. I could picture myself in the nursing home, watching old retired geezers named Lou and Marv and Ed play dominos and Parcheesi. _Let's invite Lester to play, _Marv would say to them._ No, not him, _they'd reply._ He's a loner. Never been married. Had a woman but lost her to a cheating con-artist. _

I shook my head sadly and stared out at the waves. The street behind me was silent. Everyone was nestled safely inside their bungalows, feasting on clams and crab legs and fried shrimp.

A noise from the far end of the road broke the nighttime silence and I turned my head to look. I couldn't see anything from where I was sitting, but it sounded like a loud sports car had driven down the street and stopped at one of the bungalows to my left. Toward Ranger's bungalow. When I no longer heard any noise from down the street, I focused my attention back to the water and the waves. Probably just some punk kid and his hot rod.

Ten minutes after I heard the car down the street, I saw a shadow in the moonlight loom up behind me in the sand. My heart leapt and I was immediately on guard, hoping this person didn't want to rob me because I didn't have my wallet, only my abuelita's gold crucifix and chain that was around my neck. Before I got the balls to turn around and face the intruder, I caught a whiff of a very familiar perfume…no, this wasn't happening. I was delusional. The aspirin I'd taken had to have been replaced with acid or ecstasy or something. I stopped cold.

My fucking heart kept on pounding as the shadow neared me until it blended in with the water pooling near my feet. I turned my head towards my hallucination and blinked hard when I saw her bare feet, her pink toenails popping up between sifts of sand, her tanned legs, the hem of her white sundress billowing in the breeze, and my disbelieving eyes continued upwards until they reached her waist, and her hair was tumbling around her shoulders. Down her reddened cheeks rolled black tears, settling on the bust line of her white cotton sundress and staining it gray.

My heart was lifted in my chest and I felt the air whoosh out of my lungs. My stomach lurched and my body seemed paralyzed, like I couldn't move.

In her hand was a set of car keys and nothing else. I desperately searched her finger for a wedding ring, but found none. She opened her pillowy pink mouth and at last, after a damn eternity, she spoke in a strained whisper.

"I couldn't do it."


	15. Chapter 15 and Epilogue

**Hello, children…another night spent toiling over this mind-consuming work of Merry Man fiction!! Hope you all have enjoying it so far. This is the last chapter! So there IS a light at the end of a dark tunnel…lol! Thank you to all who have read and reviewed! **

**I am already hard at work on my next story, the sequel to this one. Hilarity will ensue as Ranger, Steph, and the rest of the RangeMan gang soon find themselves knee-deep in lots of "Luvs"…**

**Warning: Smut and Language (as usual)**

I blinked hard. Yep, she was still standing there. Not a figment of my overactive, ridiculously exhausted imagination. A thousand different emotions tore through my body at once and I shook my head, laughing lightly in disbelief that she was actually here. Sheer happiness at the fact she came back to me. Anger at the fact that she couldn't have admitted to either of us that she had feelings for me. Fear that I'd somehow fuck this up and lose her again. Sadness at having her see what I'd done to myself on that warped motorcycle ride. The anger seemed to come on the strongest.

My voice sounded harsh, like sandpaper. "Couldn't do what?" I sneered. I twisted my torso and stared back out at the fierce blackness of the ocean.

"You know what, Lester." Dayna sniffed and plopped down into the sand next to me. Her coconutty perfume invaded my nostrils and mingled with the sea air. She tucked her knees underneath her chin and wrapped her arms around her legs.

We sat silently for a few minutes, feeling the cool salty air swirl around us and Dayna's hair was blowing, tickling my shoulder. The anger I had been feeling ebbed slightly and I turned my face to look at her. She didn't acknowledge my stare. I brushed a rogue curl away from her face and crossed my ankles out in front of me.

"Can I ask you something?" I began. "Why were you about to throw your life away because of some crazy expectations your parents had for you?"

Dayna turned to look at me. "I'd hardly expect you to understand."

"Really? Enlighten me, then."

"Okay. First of all, I'm not the one who 'goofed off' all through high school and managed to get myself locked into the military to eventually become a certified badass mercenary. I had goals. I had hopes and dreams, just like any other teenage girl. I wanted a career and a husband. And kids. The whole nine yards. Only…some things got messed up along the way." Dayna sniffed again and brushed the hair out of her eyes.

"Yeah? Like what?" I asked.

"When I graduated from the nursing program at the University of Miami, before I went to Rutgers for my master's, I had a boyfriend named Luis. Super-sweet guy, really good-looking, smart, funny. My parents hated him because he was a cop. A detective, like that Joe Morelli guy you and Tank and Bobby always rag on. They kept telling me I could do better than Luis, and now that I was a nurse I'd be able to meet an intelligent doctor or a freaking brain surgeon or whatever. They pushed me into furthering my education. When I was a little kid, do you know what I wanted to do when I grew up?"

"What?"

"I wanted to own a cupcake shop."

I let out a bark of laughter. "So you could eat junk all day long, right? Are you Stephanie's long-lost sister?"

Dayna smiled. "I'd never heard of Tastykakes until I moved to Jersey."

"They're one of a kind here. So what happened with Luis?"

She grew serious again. "My dad made me break up with him. He told me that he wouldn't acknowledge me as his daughter if I continued to see him."

"Shit," I hissed. "But you were what, twenty-two? Couldn't you have made your own decisions?"

"Yeah. But in my culture, family is very important. There are things you just don't do. I couldn't go against my entire family like that. Mi abuela was the only person who thought differently because the exact same thing happened to her when she was my age. En Cuba, long ago, the young girls were often times forced to marry men of their parents' choosing. And she was forced to marry my grandfather, even though they've been married for close to fifty years now. So she felt for me."

"That must have been hard to do, to break up with Luis," I said quietly. Dayna nodded.

"He never truly understood why I did it, though. He wasn't Cuban. He didn't really have a family, either. He had a daughter, and he kept in touch with his dad back in San Juan. But that was it."

"So why all the business with Hannigan?"

"Brent was 'pre-approved' by my dad," Dayna said sarcastically. "Filthy-rich, _supposedly_ good-looking. Not funny, not sexy, no personality. I mean, come on, Lester. He wears sweater vests and has weird taste in cars! I know, I know. I'm sounding shallow right now, but whatever."

I laughed mirthlessly. "The dorky green Jag parked next to the G. His and hers."

"That wasn't his only car, though," Dayna pointed out. "I think that was his 'day-to-day' vehicle. One time he picked me up at my old apartment in a Lotus. And my dad said that Brent brought his Mercedes CLK 63 AMG Black Series into the shop at the same time he was having his roadster serviced."

"So the guy's loaded. That couldn't be all your parents were after, right?"

Dayna sighed. "I guess not. He has an Ivy-League education and works for one of the most prestigious stock-broking firms in Manhattan."

"I see." I definitely knew now that her parents would flip out if they got the news that their daughter was hooked up with an ex-military mercenary-turned-security specialist, who owned a lowly Cadillac Escalade and a four-bedroom apartment suite in downtown Trenton. The extent of my "Ivy-League" education stopped short of Bachelor's Degree and the only Mercedes I'd ever driven was in Gran Turismo 5.

Dayna grew silent for a minute, then spoke quietly. "I disappointed my entire family today. My parents, both sets of grandparents, my aunts and uncles. It was awful. My dad cried. He spent years in the military, seeing God-knows-what, and THIS makes him cry." Dayna shook her head in disbelief. "But I couldn't do it. I – I had to finally make a decision that** I** wanted, you know?"

Hell yeah, I knew. "How did Hannigan take it?"

"Not well, Lester."

"To be expected." I found a stick next to me and pushed it around in the sand. "So why couldn't you have just been honest with me on Tuesday? Why couldn't you have told me the truth about your feelings for me?"

Dayna glared at me. "I wasn't completely sure at the time. I was confused."

"Confused enough to fuck with my head AND my body?" I let out a bark of cynical laughter and looked down at what I'd drawn in the sand with the stick. Dayna got to her feet and stood towering over where I sat.

"I thought I was protecting you!" she exclaimed, her voice thick with emotion.

I scoffed. "From who, Freddy Krueger? The Boogeyman? _Jason?_"

"No! From getting hurt! You knew I was going to marry Brent!"

"So your way of protecting me was to torture me emotionally AND physically until you got married, and then kick me to the side once you'd said your fucking vows? Well you know what, _Ms. Marrero_? You can't have your cake and eat it, too!" I was outraged. How the fuck dare her. I had managed to wiggle myself into a standing position and was now glaring down at her.

Dayna let out a cry of anger mixed with supreme frustration. "**You** are my cake, Lester! It's been **you **I've wanted this whole time! Since I met you! I walked out on my _wedding_ tonight because of **you**!"

"Oh, then please. Do us all a favor and finish your trip down the aisle," I said to her. "Brent will hopefully still be waiting at the altar, ready to whisk you off into a world of scheming con-artists and two-timing scams. I just hope your parents can still rent out the reception hall this late." With that, I turned away from Dayna and began hobbling towards the road. I was absolutely crushed. My dream of having her walk out on her wedding to Brent was quickly becoming a nightmare. She had hurt me deeply. I couldn't believe that I loved her as much as I did. At that moment, I didn't want to love her as much as I did.

"Lester!" Dayna exclaimed, pushing herself through the sand after me. I felt her grab my right arm and she tugged me to a stop. She brushed her fingers gently across the bandage covering my left side and gasped. "What happened to you?"

"Nothing," I muttered, attempting to keep walking. Dayna dug her heels in and I jerked to a stop once more. Sighing, I looked at her. "What?"

"What did you do to yourself?" she demanded angrily. She reached a finger up to my busted lip and I flinched, jerking my head away.

"I had a motorcycle accident." I watched Dayna's concerned facial expression turn to stricken. She dropped her hand and gaped at me.

"You don't have a motorcycle," she said slowly.

"Ranger does. Well, did. The guys visited me here the other night and I tied one on. Got on the bike for a little joyride, but it didn't exactly go as planned." I rubbed my eyes with one hand.

"What, were you crazy? You could have been killed! Why did you do that, Lester? Do you KNOW how many people I've had to put back together after they'd been joyriding on crotch rockets? Most of them couldn't even BE put back together! I can't believe this! I thought you were smarter than that! Why did you let this happen?" Dayna was approaching hysteria and I thought I'd better calm her down before the neighbors were drawn to their front porches and down to the sand to watch yet another episode of the Lester Santos Show.

"Shhhh," I said to her, putting an arm around her neck and hugging her face into my bare chest to muffle her screams. Dayna struggled against me and finally got me with a knee to my balls. _FUCK. Man down. _She pushed off of me and began to stalk away from me, towards the water's edge. I limped to keep up with her and caught her arm, which she promptly ripped out of my grip.

"Get off me," she snarled. Fuck that. I was going to tell her I loved her, and I was going to tell her NOW.

"Do you know how I got myself into this fucked-up mess?" I growled, yanking her to me so that I was staring down into her wide blue-green eyes and wielding my butterfly-stitched arm to prove a point. "It's because I couldn't stand to live another day knowing you weren't with me! I think about you every second of every single day because I'm so goddamn in love with you. My fucking heart has been shattering into pieces since the day I found out you were engaged. My brain's been a damn mess for weeks. I nearly lost my job and damn near busted into a million globs of Lester on that fucking motorcycle because I was so drunk off my ass due to the fact that I missed you so badly. I needed to numb the pain of realizing you were about to get married. If I can't see you every single day for the rest of my life, I will die a miserable, lonely soul. You are truly the only woman I've ever felt this way about, and I'll be god-damned if I let you get away from me again!"

All the while that I'd been pouring out my fucking heart, tears were dripping down Dayna's face and onto her white eyelet sundress. She had her bottom lip between her teeth and she was fighting back sobs. I heaved to catch my breath and I could feel my heart pounding beneath my rib cage, threatening to burst. And she was just staring up at me, crying.

Suddenly, without warning, Dayna Marrero grabbed my face in her two hands and brought me down to hers. I felt her warm, moist lips against mine and something inside me swelled up and burst as my arms circled her waist and crushed her front to mine. And I felt no pain.

All the love I had for her was poured out in that kiss. Her tongue touched mine and I flew a hundred thousand feet above the earth. I felt like I'd been shocked with a million volts of electricity and I thought I'd pass out. My brain came down from the stars when I felt Dayna pull away from me and wrap her arms around my neck.

"I walked out on my _wedding_ to come to Point Pleasant Beach to find you. I walked out on my _family_ to find you. I gave up _everything _to come here to find you. I'm so sorry for breaking your heart. I never realized I was tormenting you so badly. I don't care what anyone thinks about us, or what my family has to say. I'm a grown woman, and I have every right to be happy. I love you, Lester."

When she said those words, I knew that this woman was who I was put on this earth to be with. I wanted to wake up next to her every single morning and go to bed with her every single night. I wanted to marry her and make babies and –

My thoughts were cut off by Dayna smushing herself up against me and pulling me back down for another bone-dissolving kiss. I let her torture my mouth with hers for a moment, then pulled away, panting.

"Just remember who said it first, Ms. Marrero."

* * *

I had that stupid sundress off of Dayna and her back flat on the mattress of Ranger's master bedroom bed quicker than it would have taken a pregnant Stephanie Plum-Manoso to finish off a dozen Boston Crèmes. I was going to take my time with her tonight. I wanted to show every _inch_ of her fucking gorgeous body that I loved her. And I was planning on starting with her toes.

My tongue flicked over her pinky toe and I felt the muscles in her leg jerk slightly at the warmth of my mouth on her cold little feet. Someone had taken great care in giving her a pedicure, because each toenail was exquisitely painted in French style and buffed to shiny perfection. I kissed each of her toes and placed a hot, open-mouthed kiss directly on the center of her arch. Her breath hitched and I smiled against her ankle, enjoying the effect I was having on her _toes_, for Christ's sake. Imagine the monstrosity when my kisses started to land in points much higher than her feet.

I continued my torture of her lower limbs, nipping and suckling in the places I figured would drive her the most crazy. Sure enough, the backs of her knees and ankles were definitely erogenous zones. I was so hard I thought I'd fucking burst. I was dying to bury myself in her and never leave, but I wanted this to be perfect.

Dayna was wearing a tiny white thong. I tsk-tsked when I dipped a finger underneath the crotch, delighting in the slippery wetness that coated the cotton there.

"Lester," she whimpered. I took that as a cue that I had done a thorough job of driving her nuts for me, so I took mercy on her and slowly inched the ruined undergarment down her silky legs, depositing it on the floor next to the bed. I replaced my fingers with my lips and closed them over her clit, and her hips shot up off the bed. I held her down with both hands as I sucked on her center, and when I felt her thighs tighten around my head I quickly slid two fingers into her tight hole and flicked them against her g-spot. She came hard then, and I added a third finger as her juices trickled out to coat my digits and her cries of pleasure were lost in the pillows of the king-sized bed. Jesus, I was lightheaded from being so fucking _hard_.

I brought her down slowly and continued to gently rub her clit with my thumb as I carefully shucked my basketball shorts and positioned myself at her soaked entrance, poking just the head inside. I stared down at her face, memorizing her mile-long lashes, the contours of her full pink lips, and the way her eyes were glazed over after she'd had an orgasm. She was looking at me with eyes full of love and it was all I could do not to squeeze her to me and not ever let go.

"Christ, you're amazing." I dipped my head down to suck her bottom lip into my mouth and I let it pop back out with a groan.

"Lester, I need you inside me," Dayna whispered against my neck. I felt her fingernails press into my shoulders as she adjusted her hips underneath mine. With a moan, I pushed inside of her all the way, burying myself in to the hilt. Our twin sighs of pleasure at the long-awaited penetration echoed off the walls of the bedroom and she felt so good that I couldn't feel my fucking legs. My side was stinging but the pain was bearable, and my knee was throbbing but I didn't care.

It wasn't hard and rough, like before in the gun range. I was sliding against her inner walls with ease and slowly dragging against her g-spot with each thrust. She was so hot and tight and wet…_Dios._ I wasn't sure how long I was going to last. Dayna reached up and captured my lips with hers, and our tongues slid against one another's in rhythm with our hips. I pulled her knee against my non-injured hip and increased the pressure of my thrusts. And when she finally contracted around me, breathing her release into my neck and murmuring her affections for me into my ear, I allowed myself to finish and told her I loved her as I spilled my heat deep within her body.

It felt like coming home. Yeah. This is exactly where I'm supposed to be.

* * *

**Epilogue**

"Santos," I heard a voice call out to me. It was five o'clock sharp and I'd just slammed my laptop shut for the day. I turned around at the voice and saw Ranger barreling down the hallway towards me with a death look on his face.

"'Sup, Bossman?"

"Just got a call about a guy purchasing enough C4 to blow up Manhattan," he growled when he reached me. "The informant stated that the guy matched Hannigan's description."

"Shit," I blew out, running my hands through my hair.

"Get everybody moving," Ranger ordered, stalking towards Control. I whipped out my cell and dialed Bobby. Brent Hannigan was going down **tonight.**

* * *

I had managed to wedge myself between two filing cabinets and somehow got a clear-cut view of Hannigan, dressed in black, hunched over a small wooden crate. Jamie Hackett had just joined him and had a handful of his dorky cargo-covered ass in her right palm. In **my** right palm was a military-issue M16. In my left hand was the knife I was going to use to cut off his motherfucking balls. No, I'm only kidding. But it would have been nice.

"Santos, do you copy?" Tank's voice patched into my right ear. He, Bobby, and Hector were situated in the restroom across the way from where I was wedged. Ranger, Dayna, Manny, Erik, and Hal were in the lobby, waiting for us give the go-ahead to come upstairs and cart off Hannigan and Hackett in cuffs.

"I'm in position," I hissed into the two-way's mic. "Don't move in yet."

"Ten-four."

"Is it Hannigan? Can you make a positive I.D.?" Ranger asked me.

"Yeah, it's him."

"Un-fucking-believable," I heard Dayna explode.

"Easy, baby," I whispered into the mic, a smirk on my face. "**Now **do you believe me?"

"Screw you, Santos."

"Mmmm, I'm taking you up on that offer later."

"Children," Ranger cut in darkly. "Let's get back to this shit, please."

Jamie Hackett had a laptop open and was typing away on the keyboard. Brent had busied himself with a bunch of wires coming out of the top of the wooden crate. I couldn't tell what his hands were doing _exactly,_ but it looked to me like he was wiring a fucking bomb.

"I can't believe it. Almost a month without any activity from this asshole and suddenly tonight he decides to make pixie dust out of a twelve-story office building!" Bobby hissed over the two-way. Yeah, I'm fucking confused too, Bobby. I'm with you on that one.

Brent looked over at Jamie and asked her something, but I was only half-listening because of the miscellaneous RangeMan chit-chat filtering into my head. I turned down my two-way's volume and strained to hear what was being said between the Destructive Duo.

"Did you get all the funds transferred?" Brent asked Jamie. She nodded to him and turned the laptop screen towards his stare.

"Swiss National Bank."

"Excellent." Brent turned back to his bomb and suddenly let out a triumphant chuckle. "Done."

"How long will we have?" Jamie wanted to know.

"Exactly seven minutes." Brent hurried over to Leiderman's huge mahogany desk and extracted a duffel bag from under the credenza. "Hurry, baby. I want to set this thing and get the hell out of here." Jamie snapped the laptop shut and moved to follow Hannigan. It was go-time.

"I'm moving in," I hissed to the guys. I unwedged myself from the spot I was in and slowly crept up behind Hannigan. I motioned to Tank and Bobby to secure Hackett, because Hannigan was fucking _mine_.

Brent Hannigan stopped cold when the barrel of my M16 jammed into the small of his back. "Surprise," I exclaimed. Tank and Bobby moved to cuff Jamie Hackett while Hector had his Glock trained on everyone.

"Santos," Hannigan growled.

"Happy to see me?" I asked him, smacking his legs apart so I could pat him down.

"Not exactly," replied Brent. Jamie Hackett put up a fuss. She let Tank and Bobby lead her over to the desk chair and when they tried to sit her down, she got Bobby in the nuts with her CAT boot. His scream echoed in the office as he fell to his knees, while Tank secured Jamie. Hector and I were snickering so hard no sound was coming out.

"He'll feel that later," I said.

"Sí," Hector agreed.

I got on the two-way. "Everybody get up here. We've got the suspects secured and ready for transport."

"On our way," replied Erik. Two minutes later, the rest of the guys and Dayna stampeded up the stairwell and burst into Leiderman's office. Everyone began yelling at once.

"You've got nothing on me, Manoso!" screeched Brent. Jamie began wailing loudly from her perch on Leiderman's desk chair.

"I can book you for six different charges right now!" Ranger yelled back, poking a finger in Brent's face. "Don't fuck with me, Hannigan!"

"So you call your team of hood-rats in here to set me up? You had Santos do your dirty work!"

"He's literally 'doing' **your** dirty work, too. You remember Ms. Marrero, right?" Ranger plastered a phony smile on his face and Brent turned towards Dayna, his eyes as wide as soup tureens.

"Sh – no – are you KIDDING me?"

"I guess I made the right choice, then, Brent. I guess I have you and Jamie to thank for helping with my decision to leave you at the altar." Dayna smirked.

"Bitch!" Brent screamed to Dayna.

She smirked and crossed her arms across her chest. "Sticks and stones…"

"Slut!" he screamed to her. Dayna turned an interesting shade of purple and squeezed her lips together. She hauled off and punched Brent directly in the eye with one tight little fist. Blood sprayed across his face and Dayna stood back to admire her handiwork, sucking on her bleeding knuckles.

"Much better."

The sight of her punching Hannigan turned me on to the point of insanity. I stalked up to her and grabbed her waist with my left hand before crushing my lips to hers and sucking her tongue deep into my mouth. The intense lip-lock left her eyes glazed over and when we both turned to glance at Brent, the look of outrage on his face couldn't have been matched.

"I **KNEW** IT! Santos…I'LL **KILL **YOU!" Brent hollered at the top of his lungs. Having thought Hannigan had seen enough, Tank took him under one arm, kicking and screaming, and threw him into the elevator before stepping in after him. The doors closed and we could still hear him punching the inside of the elevator as it went down.

I scoffed. So I'd be on the lookout for Brent Hannigan Death Marchers in…eighty-five years to life without the possibility of early parole. I was okay for the time being.

"So," I said, turning to Dayna and drawing her back over to me with an arm around her waist. "You know that wedding dress you were supposed to wear last month?"

"Yeah…" she replied slowly, confused. "What about it? I still have to try to return it, but I have no idea if I can because it was custom made. They _might_ take it back."

I bent to suck her bottom lip into my mouth and she let out a small groan. "Well, here's an idea. When you DO return it, do me a favor and pick out a different one while you're at the store. 'Cuz you're going to need it."

**THE END!!! Awww, Les gets his HEA!!**


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